


Starker Solutions

by dela_chaisse



Series: Requiem of Iron [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Peter Parker, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chapters Are Subject To Change Without Notice, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, Omega Tony Stark, Part 2, Past Abuse, Protective Peter Parker, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is An Angsty Romance Novel, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 23,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14917763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dela_chaisse/pseuds/dela_chaisse
Summary: The pursuit continues...





	1. 1 - Now...

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: 1) This is the 2nd part of a series, so it's probably a good idea to read the first part first.
> 
>            2) Beware the Timestamps. 
> 
>    
> 

_April 2017, Stark Tower penthouse…_

Over the last year or so, they’d both developed a habit of heading to the comfort of the sofa whenever one of them couldn't sleep. Tony, of course, because it was his sofa.  And Peter because, more likely than not, if he was staying over at the tower, that was where he’d find the man, if Tony wasn't hands-deep in a project in his workshop.

So Peter was already standing at the windows, waiting, when he came into the living room. Tony was making his way to the sofa when he paused, the silent alpha catching his attention. Tony found his eyes drawn inevitably to the young man, raking up and down his compact and well-proportioned form.

Against the backdrop of the bright-lit skyline, and with the golden afternoon sunlight slanting into the dim penthouse, Peter was just a silhouette, his details blurred until he was just a dark shape, lean and lithe, but his shoulders were broader than they used to be, giving the semblance of sophistication - a drool-worthy alpha, if Tony's mouth hadn't gone so dry at the sight. Tony wasn’t sure when Peter had gained the few inches that made him look so tall, but he would forever deny how much he liked how those couple of inches had put the young alpha at just a hair taller than himself.

Peter must have heard him entering the room because he turned towards Tony to see why he’d paused. “Hey, man, doing okay?”

Illusion shattered, and Peter just Peter once more, Tony tore his eyes away and replied, “Fine.”

But he wasn't looking at Peter when he spoke, keeping his eyes turned away as he sank down into the cushioning, the leather too soft to squeak, to keep himself from facing the younger man. Tony let his head fall backwards against the supporting cushion and just breathed, measuring inhales and exhales at the ceiling, lips slightly pursed and eyes trying not to focus, forcing his thoughts into fragments before they could form.

Peter has learned to read Tony’s mood from his scent and his stance, but Tony’s eyes were always his biggest tell and the older man knew it. It was only a little after noon, and Peter had prodded Tony into going to bed only a few hours before. After a sleepless three days, Tony should have slept much longer, but there he was, already up, looking wan and hollowed out. “You,” Peter finally said, “are not fine.”

He crossed the space between them and sat down next to Tony, propping his elbows up on his thighs. He reached out to tug at one of Tony’s hands, pulling it into his lap and started playing with Tony’s fingers, the hands of a man who has helped shape the world.

 _That’s better_ , Tony thought, as Peter distracted himself and stopped giving him soft, adoring puppy eyes. The touch settled them both, and Tony shut his eyes for a bit, focusing on the tickling feeling of Peter tracing the lines on his palm, then up and down and between his digits.

Peter strove to be a safe and solid presence, so he didn’t push or ask what was wrong. Whether Tony just woke up from another nightmare or whatever, he didn’t know. He just sat close, turning on the TV, and did his best to comfort.

*

After a while, when Tony was drowsy again but still couldn't sleep, Peter moved backwards to lean against the sofa end and drew Tony against his chest, giving the older man more room to stretch out. He’d fall asleep that way, with Peter at his back. His left arm draped over Tony, a comforting weight against his abdomen.

“Sleep now,” Peter murmured against the nape of his neck, lips and breath feathering against the fine hairs there, his thumb, having sneaked under Tony’s t-shirt, rubbed back and forth in the warm dip between the bottom of Tony’s ribs and his hipbone.

Tony has shared a bed with plenty of people before, though, historically speaking, it usually involved more laying in silence next to his partners after sex, wide-awake, waiting just long enough for them to recover to kick them out, rather than actually sleeping. The only person he’d tried to sleep next to, actually sleep, the whole night through, was Pepper. But, eventually, she’d moved to a separate bedroom to sleep, his nightmares disrupting her enough that she’d needed the separation and peace in order to keep herself and his company functioning.

Peter was the only one he’d ever felt safe with. The young alpha had a built-in warning system and reflexes fast enough that Tony knew he’d never be able to hurt Peter. Even if his nightmares got bad enough that he woke up swinging, he’d never manage to land a hit. But even knowing that, it was still hard to fall asleep. He kept jerking awake every time his eyelids got heavy enough to fall shut. But every time he did, Peter was there.

“It’s okay. Just go to sleep,” Peter reassured, and Tony did.

Some slopes don’t even have to be slippery for you to go down. Some are so gradual that you don’t even notice, until you’re already on your ass at the bottom, looking back at where you started, and wondering how the hell you ever fell so far.


	2. 2 - ...and then

_Nov 2016, California, hotel..._

 

Tony realized he was attracted to Peter on a Friday.  And because he really cared about the kid, by Monday, he was in California. Maybe it made him a coward, but lately he’d been following that old maxim of ‘better safe than sorry’.  He needed some distance to sort out what he thought about the whole thing and how he was going to deal with it, going forward.

Feeling an attraction didn’t mean he was automatically going to act on it, and he’d never force Peter into anything. The problem would evolve from _Peter_ acting on it. He couldn’t afford any exacerbation of the situation. The kid had already admitted that he was interested.  And, well, Tony had never been one to resist temptation. He was doing better these days, but no one would ever call him a saint. He couldn’t deny that he’d slept with more than his fair share of partners, usually with far less encouragement.  But that was just for quick hops in the bed, and never with an alpha.

That it was a situation where it probably wouldn’t be just a quick lay, what with the massive crush Peter seemed to have, only made it worse, not better. There were consequences for the sorts of things he'd been contemplating off and on that week.  

Walking into his empty hotel room, Tony was finally able to drop the calm, controlled face that he’d maintained throughout his meetings with Pepper, various department heads, and his California R&D group.  A long sigh escaped him as he finally, _finally_ , got to relax. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights.

Shrugging out of his suit blazer, he left it lying where it fell and stripped off his tie, flinging it over the nearby armchair and unfastening the top three buttons of his dress shirt.  No matter how much practice he’d had wearing it, it still felt like a noose. Didn’t help that after Pepper straightened it, it had felt extra tight.

Kicking out of his dress shoes and toeing off his socks, he flexed his toes into the plush carpet as he made his way over to the duvet-covered expanse of the king-sized bed,  then unfastened his cuff links, the shirt cuffs falling open at the wrists once they were off. He tossed them onto the side table with a clatter against the bedside lamp, not caring where they landed.

Tony crawled in, laying down on his back, head coming to rest on the jumble of pillows at the headboard. Afternoon light slanted in from the windows, but he just sighed again and closed his eyes, tired. He felt the burn of exhaustion under his eyelids and threw one arm up to cover his eyes.  

He didn’t ever want to move but, after a bit, the thing digging into his hip became impossible to ignore.  Tony dragged the cell phone out of his pocket with his other hand, dropping it onto the mattress and sliding in the direction of the pillows.  Aches and pains making themselves known, he allowed himself one muscle-tensing stretch, arching his back before settling again, rolling onto his side and letting his legs curl up towards his chest.

His mind drifted to soft brown eyes and defined muscles hidden under high-collared button-down shirts layered under soft, touch-tempting sweaters, to falling asleep with Peter in the room and feeling safer than he’d felt for a long time, to waking up from nightmares and how, just having his presence or scent surrounding him, calmed Tony like nothing else ever had.  The whole situation made his chest feel achy.

There’d never been someone in his life like Peter, who was so close to what he’d dreamed of, way back when he still had those types of dreams.  Tony couldn’t help thinking of him, wondering, thoughts of the young alpha creeping in now no matter how Tony distracted himself. Even as little as ten years ago, it might have driven him to stay out all hours of the night, drinking and pursuing fleeting pleasures, but he’d learned better since then.  Drugs, alcohol, and other things only ever pushed his problems back for a little while, usually compounding them when he tried to escape them with diversions.  He didn’t do those kinds of things anymore. 

He was going to have to head back to the city soon, hiding away in Malibu wasn’t doing the situation as much good as he’d hoped.  He’d just have to do his best to keep in mind that, just because Peter was an alpha, didn’t mean that he’d be the same as all the others that had been in Tony’s life and also, that, just because Peter was near to perfect didn’t mean that Tony should let the kid be subjected to his own broken self.

It was too much to put on a 15-year-old.

Maybe he could let the kid down easy and just move on? Just pretend nothing ever happened?   Knowing how stubborn the kid was once he'd gotten something in his head, Tony didn't think so.  He reached blindly for the duvet with a low grumble, pulling the cover up as he rolled onto his belly, tugging so that he was blanketed from head to toe and burying his face in the pillows until all he could hear was his own breathing and the soft thud of the pulse in his ears.

*

Of course, his resolutions were all for nothing a few minutes later, once he picked up his phone to hear Peter’s voice, warm and welcoming, on his line. His given name, instead of the habitual Mr. Stark, coming through so familiarly to his ear, clear and unstammered, so that even though they were three thousand miles apart, the distance shrank to nothing.


	3. 3 - Proviso

_Nov 2016_

 

Peter was high on the rooftop of an apartment building overlooking Queens Blvd., watching the sun slowly drop below the horizon.  It happened a little earlier every day as winter neared.  There weren’t a lot of trees that you could tell by, but it was definitely fall, and the wind was brisk.  Peter was grateful for the built-in heater of his suit.  Now that he knew it was there, it was definitely getting put to use.

The busy sounds of the city reached him even so high up - people talking and dogs barking, horns beeping and traffic zooming passed, radios blaring, but no screams for help.  It was a slow day for patrolling.  Which was absolutely fine with him.  Ever since the events with Liz’s dad, while he still kept an eye on his neighborhoods in Queens, he was actually more than happy to just enjoy the peace and quiet, instead of hankering for more action.  If all he had to do on a patrol was help people with directions, he was good with that.

So when Karen relayed the message from Friday that Tony was expected back at the tower that afternoon, he bid the neighborhood good night and made his way back to his backpack with a light heart and headed over to Manhattan.

*

Peter sat on the thick carpeting of the floor, using the coffee table as a work space for his homework and leaning back against the sofa.  His headphones were on, music playing in an effort to drown out distracting noises and the silence both.

He reached over into his backpack to pull open a pack of gummy worms, putting the tail end of one between his teeth and leaving the others open on the table.  The one dangling from his lips twirled a bit as he worried it thoughtfully, not even noticing that he was tapping his eraser in time to the music as he thought about how soon Tony would be coming back.

He was thinking back to the advice Ned gave him and thinking about the phone conversation he’d drummed up the nerve to have with Tony afterwards.  How he was going to handle things going forward.

He couldn’t just go back to how things were before, even if he wanted to.  Ned told him that he ought to start calling Tony _Tony -_ like aloud, and not just in his head _-_ that it would put them on a more even footing, a little, and would maybe help Tony start seeing him as less of a kid, than if Peter was always calling him Mr. Stark.  It was crazy, so crazy, and probably childish, thinking that using Tony’s first name would put them on a more even ground, but he had to start somewhere.  Adulting was a process.

But the big thing right then was that he didn’t want to scare Tony off any more.  Their phone call while Tony was in California had been a little awkward. They hadn’t discussed anything major.  He’d been too nervous that Tony would shut him down when he used his name on that call, and afterwards he had been so scared that Tony was just going to keep traveling on business and go back to ignoring him.  Tony hadn’t.  It gave him hope, but he wasn’t sure what would set Tony off again.  He just wanted them to go back to being comfortable with each other and, according to Friday, he’d get his chance.

Thing was, Tony wasn’t really one to talk things through in an emotional sense - a recent example being the humiliating dressing down Tony had given him after the ferry incident, where both of them had fought just to get complete sentences out.  

So now… now Peter had no idea how this would go.

*

Tony took the long way home.  Of course he came back.  He couldn’t stay away.  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t nervous.

It was funny how, all through his life, he’d never really backed down.  No matter how terrified he was facing down terrorists, gods, and even his own family, he didn’t _really_ give up.  But, standing before Peter, having his own body instinctively react in the way that it had, had made him scared in a way he’d never been before.  It threw him into a loop of not wanting to want what he wanted, with no end in sight.  Because he did want him, and he shouldn’t.  Not that way.  But he couldn’t control his instincts, not completely.

However, putting all that aside, he really had missed the kid.  Driving himself the long way home just gave him a chance to settle himself after Friday had, ever so helpfully, informed him that Peter was waiting for him in the penthouse of the tower.

He hoped he could hold it together.

*

Tony walked through the tower lobby with a fast clip of loafer heels across marble tile, a sheaf of paper rustling in his hands, not even pausing to greet his staff as he just headed straight to his private elevator.

The smooth ascent of the elevator ride was torturous, seeming to take forever and yet seemed to be entirely too short at the same time.  

The usual soft _ping_ announced his arrival and he exited.  Taking a quick glance around the space but not seeing Peter immediately, he walked further into the penthouse, the request for Peter’s location on the tip of his tongue before Peter’s fluffy hair caught his eye.  Helmet hair.  The unspoken hazards of being a superhero.  And there was that unnamable warmth that had infected his chest region, and a barely repressible smile fighting to be expressed.

He sighed.  All legalities aside, the kid standing before him was the best.  He couldn’t fathom why the kid would be interested in him, other than his resources, when he could no doubt do so much better.  Tony may have said goodbye to the party scene, redirected his efforts towards more humanitarian endeavors, but that didn’t make him any more inherently good.

Which was evidenced by the very fact that the wanting hadn’t gone away.  Not as he’d hoped.  He’d hoped that with some days away, it would abate and forevermore be put aside, memory buried in the depths of his mind.  And while that first physical reaction had indeed passed, it had made him see something that he could no longer unsee.  Perceptions readjusted, he didn’t think he could ever see the kid as just a _kid_ again.

The phone call they’d shared before Tony had decided to fly back to New York had dispelled him of the idea that he could keep away indefinitely, but he’d still held on to some hope that the physical attraction that had been triggered would have calmed.  But it didn’t.  Instead of easing the way like he had hoped it would, given the week away, he wasn't any closer to shaking it than he was at the start.

Just being in the same room, coming back to the same tower, so permeated with Peter’s scent started up the tugging in his gut, the urging of his instincts to just give in.  He was attracted to Peter.  There was no getting away from that fact.  Now, he just had to live with it.

Setting his jaw hard and walking closer, he set out to do what he’d come back for.

*

Headphones still in his ears and concentrating on his AP Physics homework, Peter didn’t hear Tony come in.  He didn’t see him either, until the toes of Tony’s loafers peeked into the peripheral of his vision.

Peter scrambled to his feet to greet him, excited to see him again, but also feeling a quiet worry that he’d misspeak or misstep and be dismissed for being just a kid or just discarded entirely as not worth Tony’s time.  He tried not to feel uncomfortable, their differences highlighted distinctly by the contrast in their wardrobes that Peter couldn’t help but notice.  Him in his dark grey hoodie and navy t-shirt, and Tony looking sharp and handsome in a dress shoes and a three-piece, albeit with his tie loosened. Peter cleared his throat, a too-wide grin breaking out across his face. “Ah, Hi!  Hey.  Tony.”

Interrupting Peter’s perusal, Tony dropped a stack of paperwork on top of Peter’s homework on the coffee table and took a seat on the sofa, his legs stretching out beneath the table and watching Peter with his eyebrows raised, eyes almost dancing as he waited for the kid to take a look.

Curious, Peter lowered himself to his previous position on the floor, reaching out to flip through the papers.  “What’s this?”

A smile tugged at the corner of Tony’s mouth and he spread out his hands with a downward sweep, answering with only a - “Surprise.”

Peter picked up the papers and looked at them a little more thoroughly.  It was a contract.  For his formula.

It knocked the nervousness into overdrive.  He knew he was fighting an uphill battle with Tony, trying to get him to realize that he didn't want him for his money, and he got that, since Tony had always had more than he could spend, it didn’t mean as much to the billionaire.  But for Peter, who, along with his aunt, were going through financial hardships ever since his Uncle Ben died, especially lately - it was a big deal.

But the bigger deal was that he didn’t want Tony to think that he could just buy him off, throw money his way as compensation for whatever imagined slights.  Or arrange his life without even consulting him!  Here he was, presenting this as some done-deal.  He couldn’t just let it go and not say anything, letting something like this go was tantamount to saying it was okay.

Peter, stubborn resolution written across his face, blew out a breath and fought to keep his voice level, twisting around to face Tony more fully.  “Dude, you can’t just do this.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, expression shutting down and going carefully blank.  This wasn't the reaction he was expecting, and he honestly didn’t know and wasn’t going to assume.  He thought this would be something good to surprise Peter with.  Give the kid some financial independence, help further along some research that he (and his R&D) thought showed promise.  Even if he couldn’t do anything else, or give Peter what he wanted in regards to a relationship, at least he could do this.

He continued carefully, “I thought this was what you were working towards?  Applications for your webbing?  I’ve got people looking into the biodegradability issues...it could be useful either way. The formula that eventually dissolves would make better sutures, or could be matrixes for skin grafts, or emergency bandaging.  The other, non-dissolving, version could possibly make better body armor, lighter and with more flexibility than kevlar… I thought this was what you wanted?  To get this stuff out there to help people?”

“Yeah, I do.”  Peter’s shoulders tensed up as he prepared himself to disagree.  “It’s just that you...you’re kinda trying to arrange my life.  Without saying anything to me.  And I know you don’t do the whole talking thing, much, but this is kinda big.  Huge, really.  Something like this would change my life so much, and you already started this whole big process.  And I can see that you’re trying to do a good thing, but it’s my life!  You gotta...I need you to talk to me about this kind of stuff first.”

“Well, I’m talking to you now?  It's not like it's set in stone.  And even if it were set in stone, a stone isn't really an unbreakable material.  If you don’t want to go through with it, don’t.”  Tony brought his legs back under him and reached forward to sweep up the papers from the table, impatient now with the whole situation.  A certain stuffed rabbit came to mind, and he wondered how he always managed to push people away while trying to do nice things for them.  Here he was...trying to be genuinely helpful.  It was so frustrating.

Peter searched Tony’s face, seeing the tension around Tony’s eyes even as the man kept the rest of his expression controlled, nothing more than attentiveness showing through as he waited on Peter’s answer.  Peter’s shoulders eased back down a little at the realization of how hard Tony was trying.  “Wait, sorry, my bad.  I take that back.  I didn’t say that right.”

Peter moved closer, leaning against Tony’s leg and reached out to clasp his wrist, keeping his grip loose and lightly rubbing his thumb back and forth in a calming motion, but still keeping the omega seated and stopping him from taking the papers back and doing something drastic with them.  Purposefully turning on his puppy eyes, Peter wheedled, “Tony, I’m not saying this isn’t awesome.  It is!  It really is.  And, I’m not saying I don’t wanna do it.  I’m just asking that you talk to me before you arrange this kind of stuff?  A heads-up?”

“You did the work, sunshine.  Not me.  I’m just making sure you get what you’re due.”

Peter leaned his head back against the sofa seat, cheek resting on Tony’s knee, looking up into his face solemnly.  “Okay, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

Yeah, kid.  I hear you.”  Tony resisted the urge to smooth down that fluffy hair, keeping his walls up and his hopes low.

Trying to think of a way to lighten up the situation, Peter reached forward to grab the open pack from the table, not letting go of Tony’s wrist and coming back to rest against Tony’s leg again.  He held it up, offering, “Gummy worm?”

Peter shook the bag, the gesture startling a laugh from Tony.  The forced blankness fading from his face as he looked at Peter a little quizzically.  “Right then!”  He gently tugged his wrist free of Peter’s hold, the corners of his mouth curving right up as he reached out to take the peace offering.  “Okay.  All good?”

“Thank you for doing this for me, Tony."

The pleased quirk of a smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth threatened to become a soft grin.  It was kind of nice to be appreciated.  “You got it, kid.”


	4. 4 - Set up

_Dec 2016..._

 

Peter picked up the mail on the way into the apartment building, fishing the little silver key out of his jeans to open up the small dented door that was jam-packed, mostly with junk mail and bills.  Couldn't forget the bills.  He fought to get everything out, a magazine catching on something, and ended up ripping it when he just gave it a good yank.  He slammed the little door closed again and locked it, flipping through the mess as he rode the elevator up, putting the ones stamped with 'Final Notice' and such to the front and the junk to the back.

He was just opening up the apartment door, when the Stark Industries logo caught his eye.  It had his name on it.  Of course it did.  Why wouldn't it?  It was just that it wasn’t time for his usual check.  “What is this?”

Standing half in and half out the door, Peter tossed the batch onto the console table, carefully ripping the envelope open.  Still expecting his weekly check from his quote-unquote internship, he froze when he saw the balance.  Peter thought there might be at least two more extra zeros than there should be.  He blinked a few times to make sure his eyes were clear before focusing at the number again.  The zeros were still there.

“Holy shit!” he whispered to himself.  He could get Aunt May something nice for the Christmas holiday that was fast approaching.  Hell, he could afford a couple of semesters at MIT with this one check in his hand - even without financial aid.  “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!”

Even though he was halfway to bursting and calling May to show her, he held it in.  Bouncing on his toes, Peter pushed the door shut and leaped towards his bedroom.  Dropping his backpack inside the doorway, not even hearing the bang as the books hit the floor, and flopping onto the bed, he was still staring at the zeros.  There were five.  Five zeros.  He’d never held so much money in his hand, that was his, in his life!  Just this one little piece of paper could make their lives so much easier.  It had to be a mistake.

Fifteen minutes later, he was back out the door and on his way to Manhattan.

*

The hour it took to get to Tony’s tower by subway felt almost surreal.  It didn’t seem like he had time to blink before he was riding up the elevator following Friday’s guidance.

Sitting at kitchen bar, Tony was on a stool with his laptop, dressed in faded jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days.  He looked up when Peter exited the elevator and called a greeting, “Hey Pete, how can I help you?”

“You already did,” Peter said earnestly, tugging on the hem of his flannel button-down, finding it hard to look at Tony, “and I came to say thank you, but also that, um, I think you made a mistake?”

“I don’t think I make mistakes, but go ahead, tell me what’s on your mind.”

“After school today, I found this in the mail addressed to me.”  Peter walked closer, handing the check over to Tony.

“Hmm.  You might be right.  There was a mistake.  Who sends checks through the mail these days?  This should have been a direct deposit.  This is a travesty.  Friday, why wasn’t this a direct deposit?”

“Mr. Parker doesn’t have any banking information on file,” Friday answered matter-of-factly.

Tony looked at Peter expectantly and waited.  “Well?”

“Umm.  I don’t have a bank account?”

It was a potential mentoring-type opportunity and Tony jumped at it.  “Well! I’m not the one who made a mistake then.  Let’s get this taken care of!  Friday, call one of my cars around.  Make sure someone is available to see us at the Citibank on Union Sq.  Peter, let’s go.”

Tony jumped down off the stool and made his way over to the elevator without even bothering to change clothes, just grabbing a pair of sunglasses and making his way out, clasping a hand on Peter’s shoulder and steering him back toward the elevator.

*

Caught up in Tony’s whirlwind of energy, Peter was pulled along until he was seated in the back of a black sedan, the privacy window rolled up between the seats.  He took a few minutes just to breathe and settle himself before turning to face Tony, expression serious.

The movement caught Tony’s eye, looking up from his phone and seeing the expression on Peter’s face, he held a hand up.  “Stop.  Wait.  I know that face and I already know what you’re going to say.  But you can’t say we didn’t talk about this, because I remember us talking about it.  It’s an advance.  A small amount of money sent to you from Stark Industries just as an incentive on what the R&D people thought your project would be worth.”

Peter took a deep breath, “Okay, so it’s not a mistake.  But I thought we were keeping it secret, keeping me a secret, I mean?  I don’t want anyone to find a link between the web material and me.”

“I know, Pete.  Most of the business side, the contract and NDA we both signed, is going through Pepper.  Nobody is going to find out.  And we’ll set you up with a private account at Citibank, maybe under a trust, and it’ll be one more layer of security between the payments you get from SI.  Relatively new bank, but they’re making a name for themselves.  They’re not afraid to try new things.  Which, you know, I’m always for.  Great customer service from what I hear.  It’ll be a good starter bank for you.  As long as you pay your taxes, and don’t start flaunting anything, I can’t see anyone taking any notice, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.  I don’t really know how all of this stuff works.”

“Leave it to me, kid.  Just leave it me.”


	5. 5 - Lunch Break

_Dec 2016, Forest Hills, Queens_

 

That weekend, Peter took his aunt out to lunch to give her the good news.  Rather than go to their usual weekend Thai place, he urged her to pick something new since it was his treat.  She finally settled on a cozy Greek spot near the movie theater.

Getting situated at the table, May kept throwing him quizzical looks while they shrugged out of their thick coats and unwrapped themselves from their scarves, waiting expectantly for Peter to crack as the waiter set out their dinnerware and water, and took their orders.  Once he’d stepped away, May focused her attention on Peter.  “What’s all this now?  You’ve been awfully secretive today.  I don’t want you to go back to hiding things from me.”

“No, I know.  But, this is good.  It’s just, so…”  Peter was excited, but wary of his aunt’s reaction, trying to think of the best way to put it.  “So, look, Aunt May...you know how Mr. Stark was talking about that grant and internship I applied for?”

“Go on…”

“And I’ve been going over there after school during the week sometimes and all?”

“mmHmm…”

“Well, we’ve been working on some projects...and one of the projects, Mr. Stark says is really promising, and his R&D department is, like, finding a lot of applications for it.  And, uh, they’re paying me a bonus because they think it’s going to be really profitable.”  Peter swallowed.  “I know you’re not a fan of Mr. Stark’s, but this is good.  Just, you don’t have to keep working double shifts at the hospital anymore.  I can help out more now.”

“So you’re saying he’s on the up and up, nothing fishy?  You didn’t have to do anything out of the ordinary for this money?”  May pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned forward, studying Peter carefully, thinking about all the unsavory reasons an older man could be paying a younger one.

Peter paused, thinking about the uses he put the webbing to as Spiderman.  “Define out of the ordinary?”

 “Peter!”

“What?!  No.  Nothing really out of the ordinary…for me, you know?”  Peter cupped his hands around his mouth and mouthed the word ‘Spiderman’ in her direction.

May narrowed her eyes, the expression magnified by the thick lenses of her glasses and Peter could see clearly that he was skating on thin ice, even if he wasn’t sure why.  “You don’t have to worry about the bills and stuff right now. That’s my job.  It’s always been my _privilege_ to look after you.  I know things have been tight.  And some people, with the abilities you have, might have been tempted to use them to make life easier for themselves, instead of using it to help other people.  And I just want you to know how proud I am of you, Peter.”

Peter’s answer was put on hold as the appetizers were brought out.  It gave him a little extra time to try to word his answer in a way his aunt would accept. “Thanks, Aunt May,” he said, standing and reaching over the table to serve her first.  “That really means a lot.  And I’ve appreciated you looking out for me, especially since I know you didn’t have to.”  Peter served himself next, sitting back down and picking up his fork to pick at the food on his plate.  “But, you should know, it’s not petty change.  I can put some by for school and books and still help out.  It’s not right for you to be working double shifts all the time, on your feet all day at the hospital, if you don’t have to.  I’m not a little kid anymore.  You gotta let me help out.  Plus, we could spend more time together, you know?”

“Oh honey, you’re stuck with me, don’t you know that?”  She reached across the table to ruffle Peter’s hair, fondness shining from her eyes as she smiled.  

They sat in silence for a bit, trying the grape leaves and nibbling on the kibbie balls.  It’s a comfortable quiet, just taking the time to enjoy the food.  After a bit, May thoughtfully poured them both some more water, thinking about how fast Peter was growing up.  Pushing the last bit of crumbs to the side of her plate, she started up the conversation again, “But hey, if it means that much to you, we’ll work something out.”  She smiled proudly at Peter, but then her expression got a little more stern, “I’ll tell you one thing though, I don’t know how I feel about you spending all this time with Tony Stark.  Why don’t you tell me some of what you two get up to?”

Peter’s eyes lit up and he started gushing a little breathlessly, like the excitement just hit him all at once.   “Well, honestly, it’s pretty incredible, Aunt May.  Mr. Stark has like two floors of workshops and labs and so many cool projects that he’s working on and he lets me help and get some hands-on experience.  And, like, I got to watch while he was putting together this special prosthetic for his friend.  This thing, it’s helping his friend walk again, can you imagine?  Tony’s got so many amazing things that he’s working on, and that’s just one!”

As hard as he tried to cover it up, her boy’s face was an open book.  May knew what Peter’s gooey-eyed expression meant.  “Tony, huh?  You know what I’m hearing through all of this?  I’m hearing that you really like Tony Stark.  I know you’ve presented Peter, and soon enough I’m not going to have any say on how you live your life, but sweetheart, are you sure you want to set your heart on this guy?  Do you really expect him to treat you right?”

A bolt of nervous adrenaline rushed through him and Peter tried to stammer out a protest, not even noticing as the fork in his hand got bent out of shape, like so much putty in his hand.  He wasn’t ready for this conversation.  “What? No, what, what are you even saying…?”

“You telling me I’m getting this wrong?”

Peter was scared about where she was going with that line of questioning and wondering if red and blue flashing lights were soon to be in Tony Stark’s future.

“Oh, calm down.”  May tapped a finger against her lips as she looked at Peter consideringly.  She flicked her fingers to indicate the bent fork in Peter’s hand. “I can see how much you care about this."  May paused for a minute but not long enough for Peter to interrupt, then continued, her brows pulling together seriously.  "The first guy I really fell for wasn’t such a straight-shooter.  As much as I’m always gonna love your uncle, he wasn’t my only love.  So, I get it, I do.  You can’t choose who you have feelings for.  But, honey, you do choose what you do about it.  I’m not going to try to stop you from seeing the man.  But you’re still young, I just want you to be smart about it.  We can stop by the pharmacy on the way home, pick up some supplies for you...”

Peter looked at his aunt, wide-eyed, and started frantically shaking his head no as she kept going.  This wasn't the reaction he was expecting and he wanted to cut off where she was going with that before she got any further.  He could feel the heat in his cheeks and he had to forcibly unclench his hand from around the mangled fork, dropping it on the table and setting his hands down flat on the table's surface.  He leaned forward and whined quietly, “Aunt Mayyy, can we _not_ right now?”

“Fine, puppy, but if things develop and you two have something real?  Be safe. Never, never settle for what is 'expected' of you.  Do things at your own pace.” She wagged a finger in his direction.  “And if it turns out that you're one of the lucky ones who's found the right one for you, then go for him, social expectations be damned.  Hold on tight.  Your life will be so much less than what it could be if you don't.  I don't know how my life would've turned out if I never met your uncle, so, like I’ve always told you, trust your instincts.”

When Peter looked like he might start protesting all of the advice she was giving him, she pointedly jabbed the air with her fork in emphasis, and finished, “Oh, hush!  Just eat your lunch and stop messing up the silverware!”


	6. 6 - Working Theory

_Mid-December 2016, Stark Tower_

 

“Hey, Tony!  I’m here.”

Coming out of the elevator, Peter saw Tony at his workbench with DUM-E holding a magnifying glass steady for him.  Tony was working on something too small for Peter to make out, so he walked over, pressing into the inventor’s side with a hand on Tony’s lower back as he leaned in over his shoulder to get a better look.  “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Just some building blocks for an idea I had…”  Registering the warm heat radiating against his side, Tony swallowed hard and cleared his throat, suddenly all too aware of of Peter’s proximity.  Pushing DUM-E’s arm to the side, he spun his stool a little to discourage the kid from leaning on him, willing away the equally warm reaction inside of him.

Tony really loved having this time with Peter but the kid was increasing tactile when they spent time together.  Little touches, that maybe someone else might not have even noticed or would have thought were weird. Tony’s noticed. It’s harder, so much harder lately, to remember to ignore his attraction to Peter and just act normally, or as normal as he used to act around Peter, and keep his hands to himself, to not be clingy, or strange.

The touches were becoming more frequent as Peter became more comfortable around him and the lack of personal space was getting to him.  He couldn’t help but notice his body’s reactions to the alpha.  He’d upped his suppressants (something that was against the product’s recommendations).  And he’s torn.  He enjoyed the touching, doesn’t really want it to stop, so he hadn’t said anything, but he was scared of where it could be leading.  Pushing the jeweler’s loupe up onto his head, he refocused on Peter.  

Peter was fiddling with the odd bits and bobs scattered over Tony’s workbench, eventually deciding to pick out a grey block of something that looked like pencil lead, but was lighter.  He turned it over in his hands, rubbing curiously at the tiny particles that were flaking off between his fingers with a sheen almost like mica.  “What is this? Graphene?

“Yeah.”  Tony confirmed, only a little surprised these days at the diverse knowledge that seemed to be crammed into the young genius’s head.

“Cool, so what are you doing with it?”  Peter set it back on the table, nudging it a little closer to Tony.  

The kid was radiating intense curiosity, his head tipped slightly to one side, his thumbs hooked over the top of the table while his fingers tapped underneath, barely able to rein in his excitement.  Tony leaned forward and put his hands on his knees, grinning.  He loved these science talks.  “Well, my thought...did you ever think about how the separate pieces of my armor know where to attach themselves to me?  Positioning?  In relation to my body, I mean, not from piece to piece.”

“Sure, of course, but I just assumed that it was your programming, or Friday.  You mean it’s not?”

Tony smirked to hear how much of a genius the kid thought he was.  “Well, it didn’t start out that way...when I was first developing the prehensile suits, I made some implants.”

Bright-eyed, Peter couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on that smirk, but didn’t let that stop him from prompting, “What kind of implants?  Like subcutaneous, or neural?  Where did you put them?”

Tony put his right arm out, letting it rest on the tabletop, palm-up, and indicated the spots that he’d injected himself.  “Yeah, subcutaneous, so the pieces would know where they should be in relation to my body.  They also allowed me limited control of the armor through my nervous system...and I was thinking to expand on that.  With nanobots.”

“What?  So you’re going to put nanobots in you?  What would it run off of?  Energy supply?  Is that safe?”  The mounting enthusiasm in Peter’s voice at the idea was catching.

Tony was getting into it.  He could see Peter connecting the dots as he spoke and knew that the kid was following along with his explanation and could probably see applications that even he wouldn’t think of himself.  Hoping his technobabble wasn’t too rambling and over-excited, he continued explaining. “Haven’t gotten that far yet.  Just thinking about how I can better connect an external computer to register my brain’s signals for controlling things.  Some of this stuff is already out there...sensors for prosthetics, implanted interfaces, tiny arrays of electrodes connected to filaments of gold wires and implanted into the motor cortex - but the computer decoders that most people have...well, they aren’t Friday.”  

Tony gave Peter a quick grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling, looking a little sheepish.  “It’s just a thought, not even in the development phase.  Just playing with my gizmos and gadgets right now.”

Peter grinned back, wide and unaffected, “Yeah, no, I get it.  Like a brain-computer interface.  So Friday would know what you want and then would tell the nanobots?”  

“That’s the thought.  And later on, there’s maybe even the possibility of not even needing Friday to be the middle-man.  Depends on how it all works out, ya know?”

“Whoa.  Not gonna lie, that’d be pretty cool.  But wait...how many receptor-emitter things did you implant yourself with?”  

“Four in each arm.  Wanted some redundancy just in case something happened and something got damaged.”

Peter was usually pretty careful about how far he pushed Tony’s boundaries.  The first couple of meet-ups after Tony had come back from California had been awkward.  Things had been easier between them since, but they’d been charged too. After confessing how he felt, he worried about coming on too strong, or getting too handsy, and Aunt May raised him better than that.  But this was too much!  The implications of what Tony had just said...Peter took Tony’s forearm and pulled it towards him, pushing his shirt sleeve up and trying to feel the implants through the skin.  “What!  So you’re saying you used yourself as a _test subject?_ ”

Peter was scowling now and Tony has no idea why, and his train of thought kept getting side-tracked as Peter’s thumbs lightened in pressure, rubbing the pads of them against the inside of his wrist, a slow warm friction.   They moved up, caressing the inside of his forearm, every stroke making heat tighten in his stomach.

“What?  Why are you upset?  I’m a genius, I’m fine!”  Taking several deep breaths, Tony tried to defend himself, but couldn’t keep looking the kid in the eye while fighting his growing attraction, struggling to keep everything suppressed.  He cast a sidelong glance at Peter, not quite trusting what was showing on his face, especially not when they were so close.

The whole thing just showed Peter how little Tony thought of himself, even as he boasted of his intellect.   Peter wondered if he’d even given a thought to what would happen if his body rejected the implants.  If the inventor had given any thought to his own safety at all.

There was a long pause where they just stared at each other, Tony holding his breath as Peter’s thumbs continued to stroke his skin.  Tony started to react to the touch, his breath hitching slightly as he sat more firmly in this chair, trying to hold in the wetness wanting to soak through.  Over the months of working with each other, a lot of trust had developed between them.  But after Peter’s declaration, Tony was dreading the moment Peter would try to make a move - partly because he wasn’t exactly sure if he’d be able to say no.  

Even if it were legal, that wouldn’t make it right.  The kid had no business getting attached to him.  And Tony...Tony screwed everything up more often than not.  Sometimes he could fix it, sometimes he couldn't.  It was hard enough as they were now, with their interactions leaning more towards a mentorship, and it was already complicated.  Tony tried tried to travel to put space between them, but couldn't stay away.  He’d tried to overwork himself to keep his mind off of everything, but Peter insisted on taking care of him.  But something more?  A relationship?  That was definitely something he would screw up.

Peter’s scowl melted away as Tony’s reaction hit his nose.  He continued to push Tony’s limits and kept a hold on him.  He tabled the self-care discussion for another day, and changed the subject, his voice a little deeper than before.  “Okay, then, we won’t get into that.  But there’s something else...I had lunch with my aunt the other day.  And we talked a little.  She gave me some advice that I think I want to take.”  

Peter slid his hand further up Tony’s arm, stepping closer and moving in a little.  “Tony, I think we should talk about this.”

Hearing the words ‘I think we should talk’ snapped Tony out of it.  As he came to his senses, he tried to shake Peter off.  “Peter, no, come on.  Not talking is the best option here.”  Peter refused to let go of him easily, so he punctuated another shake of his arm with a demand, “Gimme some space, kid.”

Peter backed off and Tony jumped up to pace, back and forth and back and forth, waving his hands to emphasize.  “First of all, what you want to talk about -  it’s illegal.  And okay, so I haven’t always let that stop me, but second, did you ever think about the ramifications?  Sure, you think you like me now, and okay you wanna start something - and, from what I understand, not a one-nighter - so do you have a plan for this?  You’re going away to college soon.  Say we last through that, say we’re great together...I’ve got almost three decades on you.”  Tony finally stopped in place and turned towards Peter, agitated.  “You looking forward to changing my diapers?”

Peter considered for a moment.

“Stop, no, stop even thinking about it!” Tony insisted.  

Peter made a face.

Tony made a face back at him.  “You know the answer is no.”

“So..you’re saying you have commitment issues?” Peter asked, making light of it.

“What?  No! There’s nothing to commit to!”  Coming back to the table, Tony laid his hands flat on the surface, facing the kid and leaning forward, hoping that Peter understood how serious he was about this subject.  “Me and you, we’re...no.  Just no.  Not going there.”  He raised a finger and tapped his chest before indicating Peter, pointing to them each in turn as he went on.  “Benefactor, benefactee.  Mentor, mentee.  Employer, employee.  Got it?  That’s it.  If you need to date, go date people your own age.” 

Peter didn’t agree, but dropped the subject - for the moment.


	7. 7 - Break Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a picture of Peter’s passport is circulating now and shows his birthday to be Aug 10, 2001. I’m sticking with March for the purposes of this story.

_Dec 2016_

 

A couple days later, Peter didn’t show at the usual time.  At first, Tony thought he might just be running late, train traffic or superhero delays.  Whatever the case might’ve been, Karen hadn’t sent him any alerts about Peter, so Tony didn’t panic or even get... _concerned_ , as would be his right as the kid’s mentee-benefactor person.  Instead, he pulled up a project and got to work on his own.

He knew he could get very involved, very focused.  Okay, fine, he obsessed, a lot, about a lot of things.  It wasn’t something that he had to put a lot of effort into self-analyzing to see.  So, with a choice between his two current obsessions - Peter or his project - he picked the project.  At least he could make progress there.  The Peter thing was already settled.  He wasn’t gonna go there.  It was done with, decided.  So, he was just going to concentrate on the nanotech.

It was an idea that had been in his head for a while but, for the longest time, it just wouldn’t let itself be pried out.  It wasn’t one of those ideas that emerged fully-formed into his consciousness, the inspiration building off of things he already knew.  No, he needed to go about it a little more methodically.

*

When he came up for air, hours later, he might’ve been a little tired but that was understandable.  He wasn’t exactly as young as he used to be and the all-night sessions were getting rougher, but he still had it.  Smiling and blowing out a gust of air, he checked the time.

It was almost midnight and the spiderling hadn’t shown.  Sucking it up, he sent a text to Peter’s aunt, reaching out to her like an actual authentic adult, a responsible one.  He was just checking up on his intern.  It wasn’t overstepping.  It wasn’t.  Even if he hadn’t gotten an alert from the spider-suit.

It wasn't even that hard.  Oh, who was he kidding; it was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done.  But it had eaten away at him, what Peter had implied.  All the things that Aunt May might be thinking about, of Tony Stark having Peter over at his tower.  What if she’d told Peter to stay away from him?

It was late.  So when his text went unanswered, again he didn’t panic.  Or overcompensate.  Calm and reasonable, he just asked Friday to locate and flag the GPS on the suit and Peter’s phone to make sure they were in the same place.  And then he had her access the CCTVs so that he could be sure that Peter was actually with his things.  Just making sure he was safe, that was all.  And then he let Peter's aunt sleep and didn’t call her until the next afternoon.

*

So, while actually calling and talking to the woman sucked, continuing to brood about it would have sucked more.   And, anyway, calling was better than having to talk to her again, face to face.

May Parker was no fool, and he didn’t want to risk her picking up anything _off_ in the interactions between him and her nephew.  Even if Peter was the one pushing him to deepen their relationship into something more.

Tony wasn’t a coward but he kind of wanted to avoid that at all costs.  

“Hi May, this is Tony Stark...

 *

Peter didn’t expect the rejection to hurt him as much as it did.  Honestly, he should be used to it.  It wasn’t like he really expected Tony to jump enthusiastically into a relationship with him just because he asked.  The billionaire was notorious for being unattainable, and who is he?  Just a high-schooler from Queens.

The worst of it was that he knew better, but he had to try anyways.  Still hurt.

He shuffled out of bed every morning and went to school.  He still fought crime.  He did his best not to think about Tony, dragging himself through days that just feel flat, like everything has lost its color.

He continued meeting up with Tony twice a week for some lab time, keeping it strictly about the science.  Did his best not to batter himself against Tony’s distressingly distant, neutral expressions.  To not try to provoke a reaction just to see what feelings Tony was hiding behind his masks.

Peter just wished his instincts would catch up.  He felt empty, like someone had scooped out all of his insides and left him filled with almost nothing but air, unless the pressure of an internal ache counted, insisting that Tony should be his, conflicting with everything his rational mind told him, which was that Tony said no and it was never gonna happen.  Missing the Tony that could-have-been was a constant aching pressure and pain pressing beneath his breastbone and, when it flared, it made it so hard to breathe.

With that pressure inside him, for the first time, the struggle to maintain his personal and superhero life just seemed like too much.

*

It didn’t even catch his attention much when May stopped working so many double shifts, like he asked.  The worried looks cast his way didn’t even register. He knew he was pining, but he still did his best to show his aunt that he was okay, forcing out pained smiles that just made her frown harder.

*

A couple of weeks went by, but it wasn’t until he was coming back from a more active than usual patrol, heading into the kitchen to get some ice for the shiner that he knew he was going to get, that his aunt cornered him.  

Peter was just sitting down at the kitchen table, head lowered, keeping the towel-wrapped ice pressed to his face, trying to keep the swelling down and numb some of the pain.  Some guys had clobbered him a little before he’d been able to turn the fight around.  One of them had whacked him good with a length of pipe.  He couldn’t always be sure of his strength, especially lately and especially in a fight, so he really did his best not to hit people, sometimes to his own detriment.

“I was worried about you, you know.  It’s late.  I tried to call you.”  His aunt’s voice startled him a little.  He could already tell that this would be a tough conversation because her voice was shaking a little when she spoke, but she wasn’t yelling or crying.  He kept his back to her, hoping to keep the cuts and bruises under wraps.

“I know.  I came back as soon as I could.”  

“I didn’t realize you were staying out so late with your Spiderman stuff.”

“Just sometimes.”

“You know it’s after eleven?  I need to know where you are, Peter.  You’re fifteen!  I should know where you are.  You shouldn’t even be out there this late.  You have to take care of yourself.  You need sleep.”

“Aunt May...I can’t just!" Peter's voice rose in pitch and volume before he got himself back under control.  "I'm sorry, but if i did that, criminals will be getting away with things just because they’re out doing stuff after Spiderman’s _bedtime_!”  Dropping the ice pack onto the table, Peter closed his mouth tightly, clamping his teeth shut to keep himself from following up with anything else, close to crying.  His hands settled on his thighs as fists, knuckles rubbing at his muscles through his jeans almost obsessively, struggling to hold everything in.

“You can’t keep the whole world safe, Peter.  And especially not if you don’t take care of yourself first.”  She moved around the table to come up beside him, a hand pushing back his bangs to look at him.  “Oh god, look at you!”

“It’s fine.  I’m fine.  It’s nothing.”  Peter shook his head carefully, raising one hand to ward her off and the other to pick the ice pack back up.  Even dropping it for a couple of minutes gave the ache in his head time to start up again.

“Peter, you’re bleeding!”  May released him to go grab the first aid kit, bringing it back hurriedly to the table and rifling through it for some disinfectant and butterfly bandages for his cuts.

He submitted, putting the ice back down to let her patch him up, not wanting to make the situation worse.   Cleaning him up seemed to make her calmer, but he was angry at himself for worrying her.  He’d completely forgotten that she’d be home and waiting for him.   

She released him after gently smoothing down the bandages and making sure they stuck, finally taking a seat at the table with him.

“Today felt like that day with the Ferry - I know that was you now, and you could have been killed!  You remember, I was calling you all day and you didn’t answer your phone.  And I was worried out of my mind just thinking about all the bad things that could be happening to you...back when I thought you were a regular, normal kid!”

Peter could hear the strain in her voice as she pleaded, “This, this isn’t the police stations I’m gonna need to call when you go missing now, is it?  It’s Tony Stark and the Avengers.  And Peter, I can’t keep going on like this, trying to pretend things are normal.  Something’s wrong, and I need to know what it is.”   

May took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool.  “Look, I know you’ve been avoiding Stark.  He’s been contacting me to see how you are.  He’s worried.” She was frowning when she put a hand on his shoulder and continued, “And you remember when we were first talking about this, you said you had back up.  Support.”

Crossing his arms across his chest and hunching over, Peter wished that was his problem.  He looked down at the table, at the towel laying open there, ice melting.  It felt like the whole world was disappointed in him right now.  The burn behind his eyes was making them feel watery.

Peter stayed quiet and, looking uncertain, May asked, “I thought Iron Man was backing you up on these patrols?”

At the direct question, Peter lifted his head, uncurling enough to put the ice back against his face, but still keeping an arm around his stomach.  “Yeah, he does, if I run into something I can’t handle.”

“How does he know if you run into trouble?”

Explaining Karen would be too hard, so Peter just gave her the basics. “There’s like a bunch of monitors and trackers in the suit.  And if something happens, it sends an alert.  But really, I was fine tonight.”

May sighed, turning to face him with her hands set in fists on her hips, her jaw a determined line.  “Okay, well, you tell me, if you’re so fine, what’s been bothering you lately?  You haven’t been yourself.”

“Nothing,” was Peter's listless answer, as if he couldn’t feel the sick shaky feeling that had settled in his gut and never left. “Just, I took your advice, Aunt May.  I tried.  But he doesn’t want me.”  The tears finally leaked out of Peter's eyes, welling up hot and fast and silent.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”  She pulled him into her side, wrapping both arms around his shaking form.  “It’ll get better, baby, just give it some time.”


	8. 8 - Rhodey Holiday

_Dec 2016_

 

Christmas week, Tony went back to the compound.  Rhodey was back from base for the holidays and he wanted to spend some time with him before he jetted off again.  Maybe this year, Rhodey would actually take him up on a Christmas trip to somewhere warm.  He planned to spend some time away from the tower and Peter.  Maybe it would give him a chance to get his head on straight.

The morning of Rhodey's second day there, Tony was just pouring his coffee, making an effort to function more like a human and less like a zombie, when he heard Rhodey’s slow footsteps coming down the hall, making his way to the sofa and lowering himself down carefully, stretching his legs out.  Damp and clean-smelling, he looked like he’d just come from the shower.

“Keeping up with the PT, buddy?” Tony greeted, leaning back against the kitchen counter and sipping his coffee, still not looking like he was all the way awake.

“You better believe it,” Rhodey replied, his smile of greeting turning into a grimace as he reached behind himself to rub at the hard-worked muscles his lower back, knuckles digging into his own flesh to release the tension.

Tony dragged himself across the room and dropped down next to him, the cup of coffee adhered to his mouth, covering his expression as his heart panged. His question came echoing from the mug, “How’d the evaluation go?”

“It went good.  They’re giving me the holidays off and want me to report back to base after the new year.  Thinking to spend Christmas with my moms, ya know?  It’s been a few years since I’ve gotten the chance and she’s getting up in age.”

“Oh, Mama Rhodes. That’s great, Rhodey.”  Tony’s lack of enthusiasm was palpable.

Rhodey stopped rubbing and leaned back against the cushions, let them support his weight instead of trying to keep sitting up straight.  “You could come, you know.  You could use some downtime.  You’re not really rockin’ that raccoon look you’ve got going there.”

He appreciated the invitation, of course he did, just as he did every year.  But even as close as they were, he wasn’t going to accept the pity.  Tony gave him a quick head shake, begging off.  “Too wholesome for me, buddy.”

Rhodey let out an irritated huff, clapping Tony on the shoulder and pushing him back against the cushions too.  “I’m not judging you.”

Throwing his feet up on the coffee table, Tony asked, “You sure?  ‘Cuz your face looks pretty judgy to me.”  Turning to give Rhodey an exaggerated appraisal, Tony concluded, “Wait.  No.  That’s just your face.”

Rhodey rolled his eyes, then cast about the room as if looking for a different subject, already knowing that not even divine intervention would help with the omega’s issues.  “So what’s going on with your little trainee?”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on!”  Tony protested quickly and vehemently, sputtering on some coffee that went down the wrong way.  Eyebrows raised, Rhodey just watched him flatly until he stopped hedging and spilled about the situation.

"Only you, Tony.”  Rhodey sighed when Tony’s explanation finally ran down.  He tapped his fingers against the metal of his leg braces as he thought.  “You know, after the holidays, you're still gonna have to talk to Peter.. This...this thing you're doing...you know I have your back, right, but this isn't actual communication," Rhodey pointed out.  "From everything you’ve been telling me, it sounds like you’ve got the poor kid on a merry-go-round.  Keeping him close one minute, only to ask for distance the next.  Even if all you were doing was mentoring him - which I’m not entirely sure that’s all that’s going on here - it’s enough to give anyone whiplash, man.”

“I just,” Tony started, but then his throat felt tight, hard to speak or breathe through.  He cleared it with a slight cough and looked away, tapping his fingers nervously against his coffee mug and his leg started jittering.  His cheeks felt red-hot, even if he knew for a fact that he never blushed too badly; he still worried that other people could tell.  He glanced up at him, very briefly, but Rhodey was still watching him patiently, waiting for a reply, and he looked away again almost immediately.  He fidgeted with the mug in his hands, turning it around and around.  Maybe they could just sit there in manly, stoic silence.  Tony chanced another look at Rhodey.  Nope, wouldn’t work.  Tony shrugged and gestured between the two of them.  “You know.”

Rhodey shook his head.  “I know what I said before, and I get why you’re avoiding this, but this kid has been good for you. Even with that raccoon mask you’ve got going there, you’re still looking a lot better.”

Tony downed the rest of his coffee in a few quick swallows and twisted around to set the mug down on the side table, his retort more than a little bitter, “Yeah, that’s great, but I’m not necessarily good for the kid!”

Rhodey snorted, “And that, Tones, is how I know you really care.  You love who you love.  As long as he isn't a weapon-wielding maniac or, you know, a super villain - I'm happy for you.  Stop trying to sabotage yourself.”  He reached out an arm to flick Tony in the back of the head, and the genius half-halfheartedly batted him away.

“Wait, who said anything about love?” Tony protested. 

Rhodey reached out an arm and flicked Tony on the back of his head, the genius halfheartedly batting him away.  Sighing, Tony had to give  all the credit to Peter - he’s had to make sure to stick to a schedule for the most part, to be on the same one as the kid.  Plus he ate when the kid ate.  And the kid showed up like clockwork after school, though not as much lately, and he had a sneaking suspicion that he made special trips out to the tower just to carry him out of the lab and to bed, after his occasional fits-of-inspiration _ id est _ work binges.  He couldn’t prove it yet, but there were signs that the spiderling was in cahoots with his AI.  Ruefully, he continued, “But yeah, the kid’s kind of insistent.  So, we’ve been sticking to a schedule.  He’s still got school.” 

As much as the age difference  didn’t bother Rhodey, he could see how it would make people nervous.  It  was an easy situation for a power imbalance to crop up.  But knowing some of the issues that Tony has had with alphas in the past (and continues to have) , Rhodey worried more about Tony being taken advantage of, than of Tony having any advantage over the kid due to his age.  Even if they didn’t always see eye to eye, he knew his friend.  Tony’s biology probably gave him the bigger handicap.  Hell, in the South, omegas were still being married off as early as fifteen or sixteen.  Honestly, the alpha could probably take care of himself. 

Rhodey clapped Tony on the knee, letting his hand rest there.  “I’m not going to lecture you.  Especially now, when  you’ve done nothing wrong.  It’s not like it would do any good, right?  But personally, I think you should tell the kid how you feel.  About him and the situation.  No more of this playground bullshit. You can’t just push him around and just expect him to know how you feel or what you’re thinking.”

Tony moved restlessly, leaning to the side to rest against the armrest, and bounced his leg.  He'd never quite gotten the hang of growing up anyway, and from what he can tell, most people don't, they just got older and better at pretending.  He wiped a hand down his face, trying to stop the inappropriate grin that wanted to escape.  "I honestly think the playground bullshit might work with him."

It got him a sharp warning look from Rhodey, but the alpha stayed quiet.  The best way to get Tony to talk was to just give him some silence to fill.

Tony huffed, "Don’t worry.  I’m going to talk to Peter.  It might even be about feelings.  I got this.  Wait!  Don't make the face!  Yup, that’s the one. The...doubting face thing that you’re doing now.  Stop it.  I will.  Right after I do this other thing," Tony said, shaking his head at Rhodey's look and changing the subject.  Pasting on a look of exaggerated concern, Tony continued, “Look, if you’re going back to base, we’d better put you through your paces again, make sure the braces are syncing up with the armor perfectly.  My reputation is on the line.  War Machine doesn’t need to be known as the Wheelie Machine.”

Rhodes reached over and casually smacked Tony over the head, pulling him over to rub his knuckles roughly against the spot.

Tony never got around to talking with Peter.


	9. 9 - Go Fish

_2016,  Christmas break, hanging out with Ned_

 

Peter crawled in through Ned’s window, careful to avoid knocking into the completed Death Star hanging from the ceiling.  His friend lived in an actual house, two storeys with a driveway, close to Jamaica Hills.  Ned had been after him to come over for a while, but once he’d seen the damage Peter had picked up on patrol on their last vid-chat, there was no putting him off anymore, especially since it was Christmas break.  And, while usually he’d just visit through the front door, it was late.

“Dude, you gotta stop riding on top of the trains.  I don’t even know why you wanna keep doing it.  It’s freakin’ freezing.  You know your aunt is going to hear about that shit.  All she’s gotta do is go on YouTube, your red and blue isn’t really stealthy.”  Ned waited until Peter dropped off of the ceiling, landing lighter than a cat, before brushing the slow flakes off from where they stuck to Peter’s costume.

Peter pulled off his mask, slinging around his backpack.  He stuffed his mask in and pulled out a sweatshirt and some pants to put on while Ned pushed the window closed.  “Aww, what, c’mon.  It beats being packed in there like a sardine.  Really, I’m, like, making more space for somebody else!”

“Yeah, okay, Peter.  It’s not me you have to argue with, it’s your aunt when she finds out.  Besides, I thought spiders hated the cold?”

Peter smoothed down his fluffy hat hair and explained,  “Tony put a heater in the suit.  It’s cool.  I don’t even feel it unless I take the mask off.”  

“Of course!  That’s awesome!  Why didn’t I think of that?”  Ned waved at Peter to sit down.  The bed was pushed against the wall with the study desk on the opposite one, leaving a wide carpeted area on between the two.   Ned reached for the lamp head, aiming it down onto the floor and settled next to him, cross-legged, and pulled out a large Lego box from under his bed.

Ned grinned, “Millennium Falcon.  Seven thousand, five hundred and forty-one pieces.”  

“Dude!!”  Peter grinned back and pulled his backpack closer, digging through it for the snacks he’d brought over, happy for the chance to just hang out with his friend and not have to think about all the crappy things going on in his life.  The longer he could put that off the better.  Ned was too smart not to notice sooner or later that Peter wasn’t as together as he pretended to be and, as much as he loved his friend, he was nothing if not pushy for answers.

They were going to be there a while.  Peter couldn’t relax very much, but he tossed Ned a bag of Doritos, keeping the gummy worms for himself.

They opened the box together, spreading out the pieces to sort.

Ned snapped the first few pieces together while Peter continued sorting the rest of them into piles.  They worked for a little while in comfortable quiet, but Ned was still burning with curiosity about what was going on with his friend.  Peter had refused to tell him over the phone.  "You know you’ve been acting all weird lately, right?  Almost as weird as when you were still hiding that you were Spiderman.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut for a minute, staring down at the carpet.  He _just_ went through this with his aunt.

“Hey, are you okay?”  Ned set the pieces down to put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, clasping it firmly and looking at his friend with concern.

Peter gave his friend a smile, small and tight, but real, and took a deep breath.  Exhaling slowly, he decided to just let it all out. Ned was probably the only one he could do that with anyway and not get judged or told that he should do this or that.  So, he explained about how Tony refused him, how he couldn’t seem to let go of his feelings, how lab time was so stiff and awkward now and even all the very, very cool things they worked on didn’t offset that.

“Everything is just so hard now.  I’m just never going to meet anyone who comes close to comparing.”  Peter wiped his sleeve over his eyes before looking up at Ned, eyes a little damp.

Desperate to lighten things up, Ned spread his arms out, as if threatening to give him a  hug, and burst out, _“‘Cuz Nothing Compares, nothing compares, to youuuuuuuuuu….”_

“Oh my god, no, stop!”  Peter quickly clapped a hand over his friend’s mouth, both to cut off the singing and to get him to quiet down.  “Shut up, it isn’t funny!  And you’re going to wake your parents up!  Shh!”

Ned licked Peter’s hand, snickering.

“Dude, gross!”  Peter jerked his hand away and wiped it on Ned’s pants, giving his friend a horrified look.

Ned calmly went back to snapping pieces together.  “It’s a little funny.”

*

They got the base of the starship done, catching up about other things before circling back around to Peter’s relationship issues.

“It’s not awesome, but what can you do?”  Ned was sympathetic, but he didn’t have any real experience with what Peter was going through.  “Maybe, just...get over it?”

Peter paused mid-snap, two pieces just shy of each other, to stare at Ned. “What the hell, man, harsh...I don’t think you can just _get over_ Tony Stark.”

“Well, have you tried?  You went out with Liz.  You liked Liz.”  Ned pointed out reasonably.  “If Mr. Stark’s not an option, it won’t hurt to try with other people? You’re a badass alpha now, and Spiderman besides, what’s it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, okay.  Thanks, big guy.”  Ned obviously doesn’t know what he was talking about, but Peter was grateful to have his friend’s support anyhow.  Maybe he could buy the next Lego set.

*

So, if he took Tony and Ned’s advice, hoping deep in his heart that the genius might get jealous, who was going to call him out?  Except Ned.  But it wasn’t like Ned objected when it got Peter to stop looking like a lost puppy all the time.

It wasn’t as hard to get dates as he thought it would be.  Turned out, no matter what Flash said, he was considered a decent prospect, especially since he’d presented as an alpha.  And maybe Tony would take him a little more seriously if he had more experience with those types of things.

Once he got through the clumsy bumbling of the actually asking part...dating girls was okay, kissing girls was okay, but there was no real spark of attraction.  He took them out to the movies or dinner and, usually, they had a nice time. But that was all it was - nice.

Ned insisted he try something else, date more - try a guy.   Why not?  So, he tried something else.

Dating a guy…well, it was awkward and weird, but also kind of exciting?  At least until things started getting physical.  Then, it felt more like he and Ned had gone to the movies together, instead of him being with a date, even if they had held hands the whole time.   It was more like hanging out, buddy time...normal.

After a quick, “You wanna make-out?”  Peter even let himself be kissed just to see if that would make him feel any differently.  He even does some kissing of his own, but kissing - the mechanics were all there - but, eww?

Nothing sent that zing of excitement through him like the thought of taking Liz to Homecoming had, or that overwhelming flush of heat that came over him whenever he thought about spending time with Tony at the tower.

He didn’t know what was wrong with himself.  


	10. 10 - Meet & Greet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best with Pepper. Not really comfortable with writing her. >.<

_March 2017_

 

The tower was quiet.  Tony had finally crashed after two days of no sleep whatsoever.  Tony himself might protest that he could go three days in a row, but Peter hated seeing him run himself into the ground.  Getting him in to bed was Peter’s newest mission in life, _to rest_.

After getting Tony settled comfortably in bed, Peter stood a minute looking down at the sleeping man, just letting himself breathe in the scent of him, desperately glad that at least he got this much.  Tony looked so vulnerable sleeping.  Even sound asleep, he'd curled up almost as soon as he touched the mattress, immediately dragging the covers up to his cheek, and was resting now with thick dark lashes curled against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, breathing deep and steadily.  Peaceful for the moment.

Protectiveness welled up with a fierceness that he was still becoming accustomed to.  He’d placed a glass of water on the nightstand and left the bathroom light on with the door cracked.   Peter forced himself to look away for one last check for anything that would disturb the exhausted man.  Senses stretched to the maximum, he cocked his head as he heard the whirring mechanics of the climbing elevator.   Tony’s private elevator.

Leaving the bedroom, he pulled the door shut, softly, but firmly.  It wasn’t that late in the evening but, as often as he’d been hanging out in the tower with Mr. Stark, there had _never_ been any unexpected visitors.  Voice quiet, he asked, “Hey Friday?  Who’s in the elevator?”

“Ms. Potts will be arriving shortly, Mr. Parker,” the AI replied, her volume just as low as his.  

Head still cocked in the direction of the impending visitor, Peter asked, “Can you tell her that Mr. Stark isn’t available?”

“Yes sir, but Ms. Potts is still an authorized visitor.  I can not deny her entry, and she’s insisting.”

Everything he knew of Ms. Potts was hearsay, from the news or online (her TED Talks were his favorite) and from rare random comments that Tony dropped into conversation.  He knew they used to be together, that they weren’t anymore, and that she and Tony hadn’t spent time face to face in months - almost a year, in fact.  He also knew that, as the global CEO, she was absolutely integral to Stark Enterprises.  But, he couldn’t help the resentment he felt from the way she, after abandoning Tony, felt she had to right to just show up without any warning.

Staying back in the shadows on the balcony above, he watched her cautiously exit the elevator into the darkened penthouse, her shoulders visibly tensing.  Dressed in a white linen pantsuit and heels, and carrying a briefcase, she called out, “Hello?”  A few steps in, she sniffed delicately, and paused as she caught a scent that she didn’t recognize permeating the area.  “Tony?  Anybody here?”

Peter lingered there in silence for a moment, his hands thrust into his pockets before reluctantly stepping forward, stopping by the light switch to brighten the levels, and walking down the stairs towards her.  He stationed himself in front the landing, purposefully blocking it, and introduced himself from there.

“Hi, Ms. Potts?  I’m Peter.  Peter Parker.  Did you need help with something?”  Peter called, greeting her politely with a nod, but he didn’t walk closer to offer his hand, pulling them out of his pockets and folding them around his chest instead.

“Peter, hi.  I’m here to see Tony, do you know where he is?”  Pepper glanced around the room, distracted, her gaze flickering into each area, as if she was categorizing all the recent changes, before the movement of his arms drew her attention back to him.  She clearly tried not to, but there was a second when Peter caught the grimace that crossed over her face before she evened out her features.

She stared at his shirt a little too long, rather than his face, so Peter crossed his arms a little tighter, shifting his weight a little to face her more head on, prompting her to move her eyes upwards.   

He answered slowly, eyes narrowed, doing his best to project his resolve, “He isn’t available right now, Ms. Potts, like Friday told you.  But I’d be more than happy to help you if you need to leave a message or something for him.  Or I can tell him you came by…?”

As she walked closer, Peter subtly took in her scent as well; she smelled nice- something light and floral, but her fragrance was quickly souring.  

Tying the strange, but somehow familiar, scent back to the young man standing in front of her, Pepper raised an eyebrow challengingly, she didn’t come all this way to get blocked by some alpha puppy in the tower _she_ built, in _her_ shirt, just because he was Tony’s flavor of the week.  “Obviously, you know who I am but, I’m sorry, who are you, Mr. Parker?  And why are you here?  Where’s Tony?  Is he in the lab?”  Turning to look around the penthouse after not receiving an immediate answer, she dismissed him and reiterated her the question to the AI, “Friday, what is Mr. Stark’s location?”  

Keeping to the letter of her orders from her Boss, to Peter’s secret satisfaction, Friday answered with what she’d been instructed with: “Mr. Stark is not available.”

“Unbelievable!” Pepper exclaimed.  “Typical Tony.”

She wasn’t really trying to hide it, and Peter could read a deep unhappiness in the tense line of her shoulders, the sharp motions of her hands as she strode forward, dropping a folder of papers onto the breakfast bar, then rounded back to Peter.  

 _This woman is terrifying_ , Peter thought, resisting the urge to fidget when her stern gaze turned back to him.  One woman probably shouldn’t feel like a bomb waiting to go off.  He admired her, really, and he was kind of sorry to be the one standing between her and her goal, but he also wasn’t going to let anyone - not even Ms. Potts - wake Tony up when it wasn’t an emergency and he’d only just gone to sleep.  He unfolded his arms and held his hands up a little, “Ms. Potts, if you’ll just come back tomorrow…”

Pepper interrupted him, her mouth was very firm and determined, not a hint of give in it,   “Tony has been avoiding my phone calls lately, and his responsibilities to _his_ company.  So, I’ve been forced to come over here in person to discuss some things with him.”  She continued, with a slightly bitter half smile directed Peter's way, every line of her body stiff, and pointed to the folder, “If he’s not ‘ _available_ ’, I’ll just leave these here then, for him to look over when he is.  Make sure he sees them.  I guess that’s your job now.”

 

She pivoted abruptly and stalked back to the waiting elevator, heels clicking sharply on the tile.

 

*

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind her, Pepper slumped against the wall, fingers gripping the handrail until her knuckles turned white.  She regretted her outburst.  She shouldn’t have taken everything out on that poor kid, even if Tony was sleeping with him.  She should know better than to direct her frustrations at the wrong person.

It just hurt that she hadn’t even known to expect him there.  She had her suspicions, of course.  Tony had been off ever since he visited her in Malibu a few months ago, she’d known he’d been taking up with an alpha, but she hadn’t thought it was her place anymore to hound after him in his personal life.  But the kid being so young...that was so out of left field she didn’t even know where to start.

 

“Hey, Friday?  Can you at least tell me if Tony’s okay?”  


	11. 11 - Pep Talk

Tony reached out to Pepper once he was awake.  

Peter had explained how she’d stopped by, and he figured he should reach out first and head off another ambush.  And, from the sound of the story Peter told him, he should also keep some space between Peter and Pepper, at least for the time being.

The phone only rang a couple of times before she answered.  Tony started, “Pepper, hey.  It’s me.  Peter said you stopped by yesterday?  How are you doing?”

He heard Pepper huff before she answered, “Just fine, Tony.  I just came by to talk to you about some things.  We should meet up.”

He agreed, but not in the tower.  Getting coffee, outside, on neutral ground would even out the confrontation somewhat.  Meeting her in the office would put him at a slight disadvantage, psychologically, even though he knew all the  tricks she put to use \- like executive chairs having that subtle height difference over guest chairs, so that the person behind the desk always had the advantage of looking slightly down on him - it didn’t necessarily stop them from working subconsciously, and Pepper usually had enough ammunition all on her own.  That, and he had the feeling that seeing her on familiar territory would tear him to pieces.

*

They met for coffee at the restaurant, a trendy little Parisian-style bistro called Deux Amis, on East 51st Street, not too far from his tower.  It was a small, narrow storefront, paneled in a pale gold-colored wood, with a bright red awning.  It made him like the place already.  Their quiche, crêpes, other fare came pretty highly recommended.  He just hoped Pepper wouldn’t read too much into the name.

Tony went inside to wait, tipping the staff for a corner table away from the windows and other customers.  It was snowing a little outside, so when Pepper came rushing in, there were still the sparkling remains of wet flakes glittering in her hair.  “Tony!  Sorry if I made you wait!”

They shrugged off their coats, hanging them over the backs of the chairs. Pepper was wearing an elegant and immaculate cream-colored skirt-suit with a navy-collared shirt, her hair neatly styled into the perfect image of efficiency. She looked composed, poised, unruffled.  She looked out of place in the middle of the busy bistro.  Her face was tense, but it wasn’t with anger.  Her eyes were too sad for that.

By the time they’d taken their seats and ordered, Tony already knew that this was going to be one of the more painful meetings that they’ve had with each other.  Seeing Pepper upset always made something inside him hurt, and his welcoming smile went a little fixed, trying to rein in the urge to do whatever he could to fix it.  It was a difficult thing to keep from doing, not following that instinct.

She’d come across the country because she’d been notified by the company lawyers that he’d made changes to his will and wanted to make sure he wasn’t dying again.  She hadn’t given up on their friendship, even if it was difficult and awkward and neither one was sure of where the new boundaries of their relationship lay.

Tony realized that he was reaching up to rub at his forehead again and stopped halfway.  The gesture, conveniently enough, managed to turn into a concealed yawn.  He was still exhausted.  He had actually slept, for a few hours at least, waking up in his own room and knowing exactly who was to blame for it, and it wasn’t him.   Still, some sleep was better than none.  He looked fine, he told himself.  Concealer and foundation covered a multitude of sins.  Just not inattention.  He tuned back in to what Pepper was saying.

“You didn’t even answer the phone!  Of course I’m going to track you down when I hear about something like that!  What are you even thinking?” she exclaimed, stirring her coffee with so much vigor that it was almost spilling over the sides of the china.  She was gorgeous, more than beautiful, and she was there out of concern.  Pepper cared.  But of course she cared, she was his friend.  But she also treated him like a five-year-old.

Trying to keep his emotional balance, he ignored the way Pepper’s lips were pinching tight at his delayed responses and answered, “All right... What was I thinking... I was thinking that it doesn’t look like I’m going to be settling down and having kids any time soon, if at all.  I was thinking that I’ve found someone with the potential, intelligence and heart to keep leading my company where I want it to go.  I was thinking that it’s my company and I can do what I want.  And what I wanted was to prepare for the future.”

He didn’t want her to pick up on how much turmoil his inner thoughts have been in recently, and still are, about the whole situation.  It was his fault, he knew it was.  He was doing everything in his power to protect Peter, but he knew that he’d already hurt the alpha.  Just thinking about it made him feel physically sick.  He shook his head, trying to keep a normal expression, then giving it up for one of the ones he wore for the press, to project confidence and control.  And, while he knew that Pepper recognized it, he couldn’t stop himself from using it to shield from her all of the emotional upheaval he was feeling just then.

Pepper made a face and picked up her coffee, taking a slow sip before putting it back down, the cup clinking on the saucer.  For a second he thought he saw her lips tremble, and thought he might have been too harsh, but Pepper took a deep steadying breath.  “Okay.  And you think that kid is ready for all that? Here’s a question: did you even tell him?  Or is this all going to just get dumped in his lap in the off chance that you die?  Which, given the stunts you pull...!”  Pepper said, a bit of her usual bite in her tone.  She pressed her lips back together, holding back the rest of where she was going with that.

Tony managed to shrug his shoulders, an awkward, robotic-feeling motion, and replied,  “Look, it’s just a precaution.  Of course he’s not ready for any of that.  He’s a high school kid from Queens.  But he’s been helping me in the lab and, like I said, he’s got potential.  This is just me, trying to optimize my investment opportunity.”  Tony gave up the pretense that the conversation wasn’t getting to him, massaging his temples with two fingers, briefly covering his eyes.  He didn’t want her to get the wrong, or right, idea.

Pepper made a face, clearly wanting to say something negative but deciding against it, instead making a noise that sounded like frustrated surrender.  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Whether I do or not, it’s my life and my decision.  I’m a big boy.”

Pepper softened, and she reached out to put a hand on Tony’s arm, squeezing gently.  “Fine, Tony.  But it is my job to tell you that it's been a while since you’ve been out in public.  You need to show face before people start to wonder where you’ve been and start prying.  You haven’t been out at an event since before that airport disaster.  But behave!  If you’re bringing that alpha puppy into things, you don’t want it to be in an uncontrolled leak and leave him exposed.”

“Always looking out for me, Pep.”

“Hmm,” Pepper let the slightly sarcastic tone in that statement slide, sounding sincere when she replied,  “I want you to be happy.  I’ve just been worried, and you’re just looking very down today.  I know how you are.  You should talk to the kid.  Maybe bring him along to the fundraiser that’s happening later this week.  But as your friend, I just want you to know...even if this alpha is a kid, if he hurts you, you let me know. ”

Tony flinched, just a tiny motion, but he knows she caught it.  It felt like little rips and tears opening up inside of him at the evidence that she still cared, like a healed over scab, stretched way too far before it was ready.

“Sure thing, Pep.  Good talk.”

She stood up and pat him on the shoulder.  “Alright.  Well.  I’ll expect a call from you soon, no matter what.  No more dodging, understand, or I’ll have to hunt you down again.”  She smiled at him briefly before picking up her coat, shaking it out and donning it, and giving him a little wave goodbye.

He waved back, then turned his head to search his pocket for his phone.  Anything so that he could turn his head away and not have to watch her leave.  

He hadn’t even touched his coffee.


	12. 12 - Close Call

_March 2017_

 

Tony swallowed hard, staring at his phone for a minute before throwing it onto the sofa, flopping down into the armchair nearby, heart thundering.  His chest felt like there was a hole in it, and he would know, right?  He rubbed at his chest with the heel of his hand, lips pressing tight.

Peter was dating other people.  People he could actually bring home to his aunt.

Tony was supposed to be mature, in control, and when he couldn’t be, it was hard not to punish himself for it, trying to change his mistakes through sheer force of will or subsuming himself in work.  It never worked.  It just lead to more exhaustion and Peter fussing over him.

Except this week.  This week had been entirely lacking in fuss.  

If he passed out in his workshop, he woke up in his workshop.  He’d almost started to get used to somehow being transported to his bed mid-sleep.

An entire Peter-less week was unusual these days and it made Tony antsy.  A week without distractions sounded good, but Tony has never been all that attracted to unlimited free time with nothing to do but think and there was way too much to think about.  Even with as much time as he put towards work, there were still those breaks and pauses where his mind just went in directions he didn’t want it to go.  However, it was still the best way to keep himself occupied, distracted so that he doesn’t think about anything else.

Tony Stark should not be getting jealous over high schoolers.  But he was.  He did.  And, even though it was only over one particular high schooler, it made him hate himself just that much more.  

He just kept telling himself it was better this way.  He knew that he’d done the right thing - for Peter, and probably himself.  It was practical, if nothing else. There was no way they would be able to hide a relationship like that, it would be inevitable that one of them would slip up.  And it would probably be him.

Ruining Peter’s life was not an option.

Tony jumped up from his chair in the penthouse, walking over to to his panoramic view and looking out, he hands resting against the pane, shoulders slightly hunched.

The days when Tony got Peter’s messages second-hand were long over.  So at least Tony was the only one to know that, when he texted Peter to invite him over to the tower, he got turned down because Peter was on a date.

Whatever.  He could enjoy his own company without worrying about anyone else.  What did it matter if he’d become used to Peter hanging arou nd?  To his scent permeating everything, to his personality and presence making everything feel like home?  Obviously, not much.

It was several long moments before he pulled away from the window, leaving fogged hand prints on the glass that was supposed to be separating him from the cold outside.  It wasn’t doing any good against the cold inside.

He turned away and headed to the kitchen, pulling down a tumbler from the overhead cabinets and filling it with water from the fridge.  He stared down into the clear liquid, a bitter twist crossing his face before raising it to his mouth.  He only managed to take a sip.

He dropped his water glass down on the counter and paced across the floor back to the window, shoes squeaking as he turned, then turned again to go towards the bar.

Other than lab time scheduled for Peter’s internship, the kid hadn’t been hanging around the penthouse anymore, not for months.  No more random drop-ins to lounge around watching TV, or do his homework, or even just to grab take-out.  No more cold toes insinuating themselves under Tony’s thigh when Peter turned to sit at the end of the sofa with his back against the arm, or leaning into him while they worked a problem together, making himself utterly at home in Tony’s personal space without a thought.  

He had a suspicion that Peter and Friday are colluding together though.   Peter had a habit of catching him when he neglected to sleep, or eat, or shower. Usually, the alpha would make sure to rectify that, directing those puppy eyes at Tony until things were more to his liking.   But then he’d be back out the door.  There was no more time spent just hanging out.

This is what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?  He’s fine.  Just fine.  He’s been alone for years, really.  Nothing new.  He could enjoy not needing to worry anyone else.  

Gut clenching, he poured himself some bourbon.  Heavier glass in hand, he grabbed the bottle too and stalked back over to the armchair, dropping down into it.  He sat like that for a while, limp and lackluster, elbows on his knees and glass dangling in his fingers, before finally throwing back half of the amber liquid.  Already strung out from lack of sleep, he figured that with enough application of alcohol maybe he would forget that he even sent the text at all.

*

Tony was slumped, sinking down into the armchair next to his favorite sofa, his sofa that smells like Peter.  He was leaning back against the plush cushions but leaving both bare feet planted haphazardly on the floor, t-shirt rucked up around his waist and sweats low on his hips. A nearly empty bottle of bourbon was at the side of the chair.  

The chair was doing as little as the alcohol in terms of comforting him.  He could feel the tiredness weighing him down, his limbs feeling heavy and his head blurry-feeling and woozy.  Staring blankly out at his empty penthouse with his hand dangling his ( _what number was this?)_ drink over the side of the armrest, he tried very hard to make himself think of nothing-at-all.  It didn’t work.

He could have Happy invite the kid to the fundraiser for him.  But even though Tony had a sneaking suspicion that Happy harbored a certain fondness for the young superhero, he always gave Tony a hard time whenever the kid was involved.  If it were his own event, and he asked Happy to invite the kid, he knew how it would go:

_‘Happy, did you invite the kid?  Invite the kid.’_

_‘I’m in charge of the guest list.  You put me in charge. I’m not inviting the kid.’_

_‘Why do you hate fun?’_

_‘You said keep it sophisticated.  I invite the kid, you’re going to end up making me babysit.’_

  
Which would _so_ not be true.  Anymore.  But anyway, it wasn’t his thing, he just had to attend.   What time was it?  He didn’t know, but he’d just call Peter himself.  It couldn’t be that hard, right?

It’s almost Peter’s birthday.  The kid was going to be sixteen.  And seventeen came after sixteen.  Peter should start networking.  Yep.  That was the reason.

“Friday, call Peter.”

*

Peter was woken up by his phone ringing in the middle of the night, vaguely surprised that he’d even fallen asleep.  Cracking his eyes open and squinting against the glare, Peter peered blearily at the screen.  Tony was calling his phone?  He fumbled it around to answer.  “Hrmm?!”

“Peter.”

His name, spoken over the line, was warmer than he’d ever heard it from the voice that came through.  Peter’s jaw cracked a little as he opened his mouth to answer, words burring with the exhaustion that came from a chronic deprivation of sleep.  “Tony?  You’re calling me?  What’s wrong?”

Peter sounded low and breathless, but well on his way to panicking, so Tony rushed to reassure him, “Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong now, sunshine.  Just wanted to talk.  It’s good to hear you.”

Tony’s voice sounded so sincere and strange - Peter couldn’t identify the tone.  It was definitely more relaxed than he’d heard it in a long while.  He licked his dry lips.  “Wha’ time izzit?  I thought you didn’t want to talk to me except for work?"

Tony answered slowly and precisely, working around a tongue that felt a little too thick and numb for his mouth, “No, I do want to.  I want.  I do.  I really do, it’s just bad, ‘cuz I shouldn’t.”  Tony had been about to start apologizing and make his excuses, but now they all wisped away in the rush to set Peter straight.  He didn’t want Peter to feel like that.  Especially when it wasn’t true. It was _Peter,_ and he didn’t want to let him go.  

Tony finished the last of his bourbon and set the glass on the floor, nearly toppling it over, then bonelessly slumped back into the chair, his head tilted back to stare at the ceiling, blinking slowly, reminding himself again that this whole situation was his own fault.

Peter was gripping the phone to his ear, trying to catch every sound that came across the line, pressing it close, almost afraid to move or speak, scared to interrupt.   Just breathing, tense and huddled under his blankets. He was starting to tremble with the aborted rush of adrenaline and the hope unfurling inside of him.  He felt like he could suddenly feel everything, like everything was electrified, the feeling starting rush back - first colored with worry, then pleasure, then just more of everything, just thinking about the implications of what Tony was saying.  It was overwhelming, but he did his best to put it to the side for the moment and struggled to just stay focused on Tony.

Inhibitions relaxed, along with almost everything else, Tony was all compliments, even with as sad as he was.  Not even sure he was speaking aloud, he murmured, low and hot, “You’re so good, Peter.  So smart.  Just perfect.  It’s so hard…I’ve missed you.”

Listening to Peter breathing, the little hitches at each compliment and how the pace of his breathing was quickening, it made Tony look at his penthouse with a new light.  He was completely alone, on speakerphone, a hands-free call and Peter was on surround sound.  Fast susurrations filled the room.  The opportunity wasn’t lost on him.

But it was Peter, who _like_ -liked him and told him so, so sweetly.  The alpha that made him feel safe.  His thumbs rubbed idly against the soft leather of the chairs arms in substitution, savoring the smoothness beneath his fingertips.   _Don’t fuck it up_ , he told himself sternly.

Peter was caught between feeling giddy and waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop.  This whole thing was so weird that he came to the conclusion that it was a dream.  He was dreaming that he was dreaming.  Couldn’t be anything else, no matter how real it seemed.  So, since it was a dream, he didn’t see any reason not to say what he really meant.

Peter forced his rigid muscles to unwind before his teeth started to chatter, just from how tense he was, pulling the blankets over his head just to keep everything in, everything close.  “I’ve missed talking to you too.  I love the internship; I’m learning so much, but I miss how we used to be like.  Just spending time with you,” Peter said, letting his mouth take over for his stunned and sleep deprived brain.

Tony felt the blood rushing to his cheeks, flushing through him before settling low in his belly, tingling in his bones and making it hard to remember what he should be doing, how he should behave.  He thought - couldn’t help but think - couldn’t stop thinking about it... _Peter will be seventeen in a year from now._  

“I have a thing.  You should come.  Be my date.”  

The words zinged up and down Peter’s spine, like a warm shiver. This really had to be a dream.  His eyes fell shut and started burning a little, but he replied, voice slightly rougher, “I thought you didn’t want me to talk about that stuff?”

“I want you to come,” Tony coaxed softly, “It’ll be good!  Great!  You’ll come with me, right?”

More than half asleep again, Peter agreed.  Really, dream or reality, he’d always do his best to make Tony happy.


	13. 13 - Prep Work

_beep beep beep_

Peter woke up Saturday morning, heart already pounding after slapping off the alarm that had scared the crap out of him.   _Ugh._  He didn’t even know how he forgot to turn it off.  Too caught up with telling Tony ‘no’ to handing out, he guessed.  But he already had previous plans, and as much as he might have wanted to drop everything for the genius, it wouldn’t have been right.

He flopped back down on his mattress, bleary, but awake, the sun shining through his window keeping him from falling back to sleep immediately.  Peter pulled his pillow over his head, trying to block out the light.  Maybe he could get a couple more hours of sleep. _Argh._  Too bad the alarm woke the pigeons on the neighbor’s fire escape.  Their cooing cut straight through the muffling pillow and grated on his ears, starting to drive him a little crazy.  He threw the pillow at his window and startled the flock into being quiet for a few minutes.  

His thoughts were blurry with the last lingering effects of sleep, and he tried to think whether he had anything planned for the rest of the weekend.  Maybe Tony would be free later?  Or he could hang out with Ned.

Then the memories started trickling back.  He’d come home pretty early Friday night, the guy he’d asked out begging off to make it an early night.  They hadn’t really clicked.

He’d actually gone to bed at a decent time, not patrolling for once.  _Man, that was such a weird, vivid dream._

Peter sat up in bed slowly, scrubbing the heels of his hands over his eyes, trying to wipe away the bleary feeling.   _Wait.  What if it wasn’t a dream?_   He scrambled for phone, swiping his hands under the covers and his other pillow until he found it.  Snatching it up and peering at it closely, he brought up the call history.  Tony Stark, 2:13 am, a little over ten minutes.   _Oh goddd._ He’d fallen asleep with Tony Stark on the line.   _Fuck!  Did he snore?_

A message lit up the phone while it was still in his hand.  Of course it did.  It was a StarkPhone.  An invitation to a benefit splashed across the screen, the details sent from Friday, he was sure.

Peter rubbed his eyes, hard, until phosphene lights were sparking underneath his lids.  It didn’t change the invite details. The event was for later that night.

He tried to leap out of bed but got tangled in blankets and sheets, fumbling to the floor with a _thump_ before managing to kick the covers off his feet.  Jumping shakily to his feet and reeling from the headrush, he stumbled his way to the bathroom.

 *

Thirty minutes later he was showered and getting cereal from the kitchen, walking over to take a seat on Aunt May’s couch in front of the TV next to her, once he had everything set. He slid his OJ down onto the coffee table, but kept the bowl balanced in his hand. Shoveling the cereal in, drips of milk getting on his chin, he scarfed it up, with only his quick crunches disturbing the peaceful quiet between them.

Too much to do today.

May was sitting on the other side, reading the news on her tablet.  Peter flicked glances at her while he ate, until she caught him and met his eyes briefly over the edge of her device.  She raised an eyebrow at the way her nephew was almost literally vibrating in his seat. “Sleep well?”

Peter nodded at her with a bright smile, lips closed to keep from dribbling, chewing quickly and swallowing so that he can tell her about the invitation.  He set the bowl down on the table, pushing it further in from the edge, then fished his phone out of his pocket, sliding over to the cushion next to her so that he can show her the screen without letting go of the phone.

May studied him carefully, wondering what had precipitated such a sudden change.  Peter’s demeanor was a complete 180° from how he’d been acting the last couple of months.  His normal carefree smiles had been few and far between.  Now though, he was almost annoyingly chipper, an exuberant attitude that just wouldn’t quit.  She tugged the phone from him and glanced at the screen.  She got as far as _“Tony Stark invites you…”_ before asking, “So this is what’s got you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?”

Grinning, expression wide and bright, Peter leaned over the table to scoop up another spoonful of cereal to stuff in his mouth.

She tsked at him under her breath and just looked at him, suppressing her worry, and ending up resignedly amused.

He finally swallowed the bite and answered her, hopefully, “Maybe?”

 “Alright.  What do you need?”

*

They’d spent most of the day getting everything prepped for the party Stark had invited Peter to.  Worrying about what to wear.  Making sure his shoes were shined.  Going over the tutorials on how to tie a tie.  Deciding which knot Peter should use.  Her kid still didn’t have the hang of it.  There wasn’t much call for practice, after all, but he’d been able to follow along with the video.

 “Aunt May, can you help?”

 Wondering what he needed now, May looked up from her budgeting, pushed her glasses up her nose and gave Peter a searching look, “What’s got you so nervous?  Just put yourself out there, you’ll do great.  It’ll probably be just like Homecoming.”

 “God, I hope not!” Peter exclaimed before he could stop himself.

 “What happened at Homecoming, I thought you said it went fine?”

Scrambling to cover his first reaction, Peter answered. “It was _fine_ , just fine, just didn’t really get to practice my dancing skills. The formal stuff, you know?”

 “Hmm,” she sounded a little skeptical but stood up anyway, “well, come here. We’ll go over it again.”  She beckoned Peter closer, still searching his face, not quite trusting that was all there was to it, but finally reached up to adjust his lapels, brushing her hands over his shoulders instead of pushing him for more answers. Then she arranged his hands, showing him where to put them.

 Starting slow, she showed him the basic box step, “So, this thing, where did you say it was being held again?”

 Peter answered her, moving tentatively and watching his feet, “In the city, downtown, a place called _Capitale_?”

 “Oh, I’ve been there!  That’s on the Bowery, isn’t it?  It’s a nice place. The hospital had an award ceremony there once.”

 “Mr. Stark says it’s mostly going to be small networking thing while we support a cause.”  While talking about Stark, Peter’s steps had smoothed out and he’d taken the lead.

 “Uh huh, well, honey, I don’t think you’re going to be fine.” Peter tentatively lead her into a twirl; May came out of it grinning. “I think you’re going to be amazing!”

 Peter rolled his eyes a little and kissed his aunt on the cheek.  “I think you might be biased, but thanks, Aunt May.”


	14. 14 - the Party

_March 2017_

 

The first sight of Peter that night forced Tony to take in a sharp breath.  Even though the gasp was near silent, it set off a team of racing thoughts as he was struck all of a sudden by how broad Peter’s shoulders were, how much he has filled out, how neat his waist looked with the waistcoat of the sharp, well-cut suit enhancing his fit form.  Looking across the atrium, Tony couldn’t help himself as his gaze traveled down.  Wearing that suit, Peter looked so...adult...and Tony’s mouth dried as he took it all in, his heart picking up its pace.  

He bit the inside of his cheek as he made his way through the crowd to pick Peter up, focusing on that small pain to will away any other reactions he refused to acknowledge.  He shouldn’t be _noticing_.  Not like this.

Peter was already all rosy cheeked and smiling, and it was good that Tony always made sure to start out with a drink already in hand at these kinds of things, so their first stop was the bar.  Getting the drink gave him something to fidget with and a chance to compose himself, the pangs of his heart going unheeded.

Afterwards, he brought Peter around the room with him, this business meeting masquerading as a charity event, letting Peter shadow him and introducing the kid to people who might come in handy to him later down the line.  Glad-handing and small-talking where expected with people he had contracts with and people he was contracted to - suppliers, exporters, manufacturers - big names in their respective industries.  Parties, fundraisers, and galas just weren’t all that fun when it was more an obligation than anything else.  

“Someone’s popular,” Peter muttered, stepping in closer and giving him a curious, sidelong look.

“Of course I am.  Everyone knows who I am,” Tony smirked, with a wry twist of amusement, nodding at the next people that approach them.

They circulated around the room.  At least this time, Tony had company he didn’t mind being around.  The feel of Peter’s hand against the small of his back was a comfort, keeping them connected as he moved around the room.

It was unusual for Tony to be seen at one of these functions with an alpha as an escort.  He hadn’t been accompanied like this since before Steve Rogers had left town, so he kept a careful eye on the crowd, scanning faces and catching the looks directed his way, cutting side-eyed glances, appraising and speculative.  Familiar looks that he’s seen before, when Steve had sometimes come with him to these types of things.  Questioning, always questioning, wondering if this was the alpha that had finally tamed him and all of them so sure that they could do better.  He kept his composure through all of it, not letting anything show on his face, just smiled and took a sip of his drink.

He knew why they were all acting the way they were.  It was inevitable that they would pick up on Peter’s scent.  It was all over him and even he could smell it, nose-blind as he was.  

Most of the crowd was even keeping their distance due to the whiffs of possessive pheromones that Peter was giving out, between that and the young alpha’s body language, everything was just screaming _taken_ , like Peter has staked some unsubtle claim on him that everyone was now aware of.   It was stifling.

Some hide-bound, chauvinistic ignoramuses were even going so far as to defer to Peter instead of Tony, looking to the young alpha first, as if being escorted by an alpha suddenly changed how he did business.  He hadn’t let an alpha speak for him since Obie.  He’d learned his lesson regarding  _that_.

Of course, Tony spoke up for himself, insistently ignoring how people kept casting glances at Peter surreptitiously, waiting for Peter to put him in his place.  Peter was oblivious, just giving everyone charming winsome smiles and backing Tony up all the way whenever someone asked specifically for the young alpha’s opinion.  He seemed to be oblivious too, to Tony’s mounting frustration.

They allowed the eddying of the crowd to carry them between groups and conversations, but it was all the same old, same old.  Tony was grateful to Peter, but bitter at the same time.  Because while it was great that Peter backed him up, in a way that no one ever had before, Tony was feeling resentful that he even needed to.

He didn’t let any of it show on his face, though, especially not to Peter, keeping the same practiced, crafted expression through all of his internal wincing.  That didn’t mean, however, that he didn’t feel a twinge of relief when, during one of the intervals, Peter gently squeezed his elbow to get his attention and indicated, “I’m just going to step outside for a minute, okay?”  

Well, Tony was glad for the break.  

“Yeah, good idea.”  Tony offered him a quick smile.  “Catch up to me later.”

*

Once he had Tony’s acknowledgement, Peter stepped away.  A headache had been building by his temples and he needed a break from all the stimuli of the party.  

Too bad it got even worse once he didn’t have Tony to focus on.  

Detouring away from the bathroom, which was where he had been heading, Peter stumbled through the crowd, trying to find the exit.  Along with being overwhelmed, he was starting to feel over-sensitized, with even the seams of his clothes suddenly becoming an irritant.  Overlapping conversations turned into nothing but white noise, loud, in a way that he couldn’t ignore.  It was a cacophony, like his senses were playing pinball, the intensity ricocheting from sight to hearing to smell and touch, all overwhelming and not necessarily taking turns.  He tried to pick out just one conversation, but he couldn’t focus.  The light glinted from the crystal and silverware, every little glimmer, spark, and flash catching his eyes.  Hunched over a little, Peter stumbled his way outside to calm down.

Outside of the building wasn’t much quieter, but it was darker, which was somewhat of a relief.  Peter shaded his eyes against the glare of street lamps and headlights, finally deciding to take the short walk over to the park on Forsyth.  The smells and noises of Chinatown were just as overwhelming as the party.  One lady on the corner of Grand street, hawking her wares, was especially loud, but it got him away from the crowds of people hanging around outside of the event and the close bunches of tourists moving down the street.  He didn’t want anyone to recognize him while he was having trouble.  He didn’t want to embarrass Tony.

Taking a seat on a bench by the handball courts, he let his head hang down.  He just needed a time out while he waited for things would settle.

*

Peter made his way back inside about an hour later.  He hadn’t realized this whole experience would be so overwhelming.  It was a stark contrast to the last few lackluster weeks.  Everything seemed so vibrant and alive now.   Everyone inside dressed up to the nines, still talking at high volumes.  The marble interior of the place just reflecting the sound back down and around through the atrium, words echoing sharply and blurring together to the point where no one was clearly audible.  Not able to rely on his ears, Peter scanned the crowd, searching for Tony, passing by the buffet of _hors d'oeuvres_ with barely a glance.

He eventually spotted Tony at the bar.  He must have gone to get a drink refill.  He’d told Peter from the start that it was best to have something already in his hand.  It stopped people from pushing more drinks on him.  And that was fine, but there was a guy hovering over Tony, a muscular blond guy, whose suit was stretched tight over his broad shoulders.  

Peter couldn’t really see their faces, but he definitely didn’t like what he could see of their body language.  He couldn’t hear what they were saying to each other from that distance either, but Tony looked increasingly uncomfortable.  His shoulders were tight and tense, leaning back on his heels away from the looming blond, but not giving ground as he faced him.

Taking in the scene, Peter’s nails dug into his palms as his hands balled up into fists and a growl built in his chest.  He let out a rough exhale and strode over, every muscle in his back and neck wound tight and getting tighter as he walked.

In the end, though, he decided against making a scene and merely came to a full stop just behind Mr. Stark, at his shoulder.  Peter barely caught the tail end of something as he approached, an insistently cocky - “Is that any way to greet your _old friend_?  Let’s go catch up.”

The other alpha reached out to grab Tony’s arm and Peter stepped in, offering his hand to block the move.  This wasn’t something he was going to leave Tony to deal with alone.  He had to do something, even if it was only showing his support.  Tony’s sharp brown eyes suddenly turning his way, filled with a warning to back off, didn’t come close to making him change his mind.  And, once Tony realized it was Peter at his back, he let it be.

“Well, now!  Tony, who’s this young puppy?  Aren’t you going to introduce us?” The blond was grinning faux-friendly at Tony and it rankled Peter’s instincts.

Tony’s voice was bland, his face showing nothing but calm as he waved a hand at Peter, “Peter, this is an old schoolmate, Tiberius Stone.”

Eyes locked on the other alpha’s, he put one hand lightly on Tony’s lower back and introduced himself with a handshake that was purposefully too firm, leaving the other guy wringing his hand after the tight grip once Peter let go.  The blond stared at Peter incredulously.

Teeth bared in a facsimile of a smile, Peter apologized with a hostile glare, “Sorry, my bad, sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

The words were thrown carelessly over his shoulder as the young alpha gently ushered Tony away towards the dance floor.  Surprisingly enough, Tony went along with it, without any protests or teasing remarks.  It wasn’t like him.

"Are you okay?" Peter demanded, his protective instincts surging to the surface again, and he tugged Tony into facing him, trying to read him.

“Easy there, baby Crockett.  Looking out for me?” The tone of Tony’s voice was a little dry, but he accompanied it with a reassuring smile, positioning his arm for the dance that was just starting.

“Yeah.  Yeah, of course I am.”

Tony squeezed his arm, fondly exasperated. “I can defend myself, you know.”

“I know.  I just wanted to help."

The immediate agreement soothed Tony’s nerves, actually putting to rest some of the insecurities that had popped up throughout the evening.  An honest offer of help verses a let-me-do-that-for-you making all the difference.

They danced slowly on the edges of the crowd, but Peter’s skin started crawling at having so much attention on him.  Everyone was watching.  Eyes were always on Tony and asking him to dance had invited the whole room to stare.

Feeling nervous, voice high after his unusual boldness, Peter leaned in closer to whisper to in Tony’s ear, “Everyone is staring.”  

His breath blew hot over the curve of Tony’s ear and warm goosebumps broke out everywhere, making him feel hot all over.  Tony bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself in check before forcing himself to stay casual, chuckling, “Well, look who you’re with.  Maybe they’re jealous.”

Peter looked at Tony, wide-eyed at the flirtatious commentary and bit his lip.  “What? Why? Of me?”

“Oh, you, definitely you.”  Tony leaned into Peter, who supported him solidly, warmth enveloping him as both of Peter’s arms went around him.  He was vaguely aware that he was straying passed the boundary that he’d previously set for himself, but he was finding it hard to care.  There was a small twitch of his lips that may have been a smile. “Or maybe both of us, hmm?”

Peter scoffed, “Oh, ha.  Like that would ever happen.  I’m no threat. Obviously.”

“I don’t know, another couple of years...I kind of think they should be terrified.”

Tony hated himself a little for the flirting, and then a little more when he couldn’t help but fixate on the way Peter’s lips were pinker than they were before.  After a minute, Peter seemed to perk up with pride at the assessment, taking it as an invitation and pulling him closer, removing all sense of personal space between them.  They were nearly of a height and it was only Tony’s heeled loafers that were giving him the advantage.

Usually, the taller person led a dance, but Peter already had the lead and he didn’t want to give it up.  He kept one hand on Tony’s hip to control their movements and one hand in the other man’s, keeping his grip light.

He could feel Tony relaxing into the slow dance and he loved the feel of Tony leaning into him but the closeness brought a wash of strange scents to Peter’s nose.  He fought with himself, but he couldn’t stand that Tony smelled like so many other people at the party, especially that other sleazy alpha.

He stole away Tony’s drink and took a sip from the glass, hoping that alcohol would take away some of his nervousness.  He expected the sharp bite and burn of hard liquor, but got sweetness instead. It was just juice.

Tony’s eyes sparkled with mirth at his surprise, and Peter thrust the drink back into his hand, pulling him closer again and running his nose and lips down Tony’s neck, giving in and scenting him.  

Tony’s breath caught sharply in his throat at the feeling of Peter’s lips on his neck, and he could suddenly feel his heartbeat in all of his pulse points.  When Peter pulled back to look at him, he found he didn’t want to look away from Peter’s gaze, and Tony wasn’t laughing anymore.

Without taking the time to second-guessing himself, Tony asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

*

Tony texted his driver to pull the car around, directing him to the tower without even asking Peter.  When they got in, he left the privacy window down, feeling the need for a chaperone.  It made for an awkward ride, neither of them feeling free to talk, so both of them faced away from each other, tense.  

Tony stayed focused on his phone and Peter stared out of the window.

Their hands crept closer over the leather seat, inching towards each other until their pinkies bumped.  Not looking, Peter crossed his over the top of Tony’s, ducking his head to hide a smile.

*

Peter followed Tony into the tower.  

Their trip through the marbled lobby was quick and quiet, with only acknowledging nods to the security personnel on duty.  

As the high-rise elevator doors closed behind them, Tony entering first, Peter hit the button for the penthouse, and turned.

Then it was just the two of them again, alone, in a small space with no buffer.  

He didn’t give Tony a chance to say anything before he slowly started advancing on the omega, who gave way, backing up against the wall.  There wasn’t really anywhere to escape in the elevator, and Peter took the opportunity to box him in, his arms on either side of the older man, leaning close, but careful not to touch.

Tony hated being feeling caged in, whether it was during sex or outside of it, it didn’t matter.  It set him off, reminding him too much of all the confined spaces he’d been forced into over the years.  All the tight situations, like the kidnappings - even before Afghanistan, which was only the most recent attempt - and otherwise - like fuckwits trying to put him in (what they thought) was his place.   Add manhandling to the mix and it was the perfect set-up for him to flip his shit. He hated the lack of control. Like water, it was a known trigger, but unlike water it wasn’t one he’d worked on training out of himself.

But Peter wasn’t holding him there; he wasn’t even touching him, the alpha patiently waiting for some unknown cue.

As the elevator made its way upwards, Peter’s voice was strained as he explained, “It’s like...insane how bad I wanna kiss you right now.”  

Peter was so close that Tony feel his breath on his lips, could see how dilated Peter’s pupils were, the black swallowing up the honey brown, leaving only a thin ring.  The alpha’s voice was also noticeably deeper, and Tony found that the sound had a considerable effect on his body’s reactions.

He stood straighter, eager to put distance between them. He didn't trust himself not to do something stupid when they were so close. He swallowed hard, hoping desperately that Peter wouldn’t hear him. Peter was a genius - he'd put the signs together.

His eyes quickly dropped down from Peter’s close stare to his lips and then couldn’t tear his eyes away as Peter licked them.  Tony's eyes flickered back up and Peter leaned in even closer, poised, with barely a hair’s breadth keeping them apart.

“I really wanna kiss you.” Peter repeated, his eyes roaming intently over Tony’s face, watching all the minute reactions that he couldn’t conceal, noticing the dilation of the omega’s pupils and how he hadn’t made any sort of protest.  “And, I know what you said before, but…”

Moving slowly, Peter removed one of his hands from the wall, reaching out slowly to cup Tony’s face, his thumb moving gently against his bottom lip.  He was waiting for Tony’s answer, but he still leaned in a fraction.

Tony could smell his scent.  “I…”

Tony’s small noise of protest died down before it could barely get started as that small touch made his lips tingle and ignited a flare of desire.  He managed not to jerk away or lean in, but only just. He couldn’t bring himself to fight anymore.

Peter’s eyes met Tony’s again. “I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want. Okay?”

Tony nodded once, in spite of part of his mind insisting that he should put a stop to this.  But Tony could barely think, his senses instead focusing on all of the points of contact between them.  All of his thoughts went into enjoying the sensation of Peter’s touch, every minute movement making his heart race faster.  

Like that small nod was the only thing keeping him back, Peter crowded him against the wall, using his hand to tilt Tony’s head in the direction he wanted it.  His mouth descended, and Tony wasn’t prepared for how gentle the kiss was. From the way Peter had been acting, almost predatory, he had half-expected it to be all teeth and aggression.  It wasn’t. Peter cradled his jaw carefully, sliding his lips over Tony's slowly, exploring, learning by touch, nibbling softly at his bottom lip, then at the top, and then at the bottom again as though comparing texture, chasing the taste of him to the corner of Tony’s mouth, then smoothing the tip of his tongue, seeking entrance.

Tony went pliant beneath his hands.  It was luscious, slow-burning torture, all soft pressure and warm breath, simple, but not innocent at all and Tony wanted to let out a soft whimper at the first hint of tongue tracing at the seam of his lips, instead grabbing Peter’s shoulders for support.

Peter’s hand went around the back of his neck, holding him in place, and Tony actually shivered.

“...you can touch me too, if you want.” Peter prompted softly.

Tony nodded dumbly and hooked his thumbs into the collar of Peter's blazer, pushing it off his shoulders, pulling his shirt out of his pants, and sliding his hands up the solid muscles of Peter’s stomach, watching the movement of his own hands, concentrating on the smooth skin under his fingers.  

When their lips met again, it was less tentative and Tony felt something inside him give, as if the permission to touch had finally sunk in.  His hands flew up to hold Peter, pulling him close.  The omega felt dizzy, intoxicated on the feel of him, the smell of him.  His every sense was being overloaded by the alpha’s impossible proximity, and Tony reveled in it, accepting his lack of control over it for the time being.

He was so distracted, he didn’t see it coming before the bad situation got much, much worse as Peter’s mouth latched onto his neck.  Peter moved down, licking and laving down the length of his neck, tracing the muscles and tendons, teeth light on breakable skin, until he finally paused, mouth closed, over the spot where a claiming bite would be, if Tony were ever mated.

His body’s reaction to the touch was such a deep betrayal of body to mind congruence that he wouldn’t ever forgive himself for it - he moaned.  It was the worst possible sound he could've made, because that one sound was a surrender.  It let Peter know just how much he was affected, just how much he wanted this.  Peter started brushing his lips back and forth over that spot.  It made Tony’s knees go weak.

Peter pushed into him, using his own body to hold Tony where he wanted him as his hands roamed.  Tony had to stop this. Had to.  And he would.  He was planning to do something about it...the minute things stopped feeling so good….groaning, he decided that he really needed to get laid if these little touches were making him feel like _this_.  Getting laid actually sounded really good right then.

Tony suddenly felt teeth against that spot as Peter’s lips pulled back into a grin at the noise, so he ran his fingers through Peter’s hair, scraping lightly at his scalp in a way that made the younger man shiver.  

Pulling back to catch his breath, and to get his teeth away from the temptation of that spot, Peter had to pause again, to just admire the sight in front of him.  Tony’s head was tilted back against the door, panting lightly, with his throat exposed and his eyes half-lidded and hazy as they looked back at him.

“Do you like this?” Peter whispered, “Tell me you like this.”

“Kid...” Tony’s voice was beyond his own recognition.  His voice trailed off, afraid to give anything more away.

“Tony,” Peter rumbled, his voice low and rough, like the very sight of Tony was pulling him apart, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”  

Peter licked his lips again, and Tony instinctively tilted his head back in response, his eyes drifting shut as Peter warned him, “I’m going to touch you again, okay?”

Peter’s knee between Tony’s legs had him suddenly conscious of the hardness outlined against his dress pants, the pressure against him...throbbing.   Tony instinctively closed his eyes as Peter’s hand stroked a hot path up and down his thigh, the heat of Peter’s hand penetrating through the thin material almost as if it wasn’t there.  His breath quickened but his eyes snapped open to meet Peter’s as he felt that hand start to get closer and closer to the source of that throbbing, his fists bunching up Peter's t-shirt just to give himself something to hold on to.  Peter hasn’t ever...he’s never touched him like this before, nothing anything close.

Peter was looking, too, so knowingly.   Accessing him entirely too boldly to be comfortable.  It was unnerving.  Before today, Tony had only had glimpses of this side of the alpha.  He was too used to the kid who got excited about Legos, science, and webbing up bad guys.  This alpha - all dark eyes, caring and intensity - was unanticipated.  But he had the feeling he shouldn't have been surprised.  There were reasons why he’d tried to keep some distance between them, even if he couldn’t remember why right now, when he was currently trying his best to minimize it.  Peter was perfect, so perfect.

The elevator’s door opened with a _ping_ , but Friday just held them open as neither of the people inside made a move.

Tony panted, pulling in as much air as he could before he finally forced his body to straighten up and support its own weight against the wall, logic kicking back on in his brain like a CPU after a hard reboot...it took a few extra minutes, but the systems eventually came back online, and Tony promptly pushed Peter back a step, breaking away from the teasing warmth of that hand.

And the really telling thing was that Peter let him, only giving him a look of concern instead of the usual annoyance and impatience he’d gotten from other people before, when they were confronted with his hang ups.

They stared at each other, sharing breaths, the small space between them heavy and charged, hovering on the brink of something explosive.  Tony couldn’t look away from Peter’s lips, couldn’t completely let go of him, his hand still bunched in Peter's t-shirt, couldn’t seem to get enough air with how much he wanted, aching.

It made him want to pick up where they left off.   Tony squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, no, he just needed to schedule an evening alone with his own tension-relieving hand, or quality time in his state-of-the-art bathroom with something like a million ice cold showers.

“Tony,”  Peter started, then paused.  “I think.  I think I want to court you.”

Eyes snapping wide, Tony looked everywhere but at Peter as a laugh escaped him.  “Court me?  What are we?  Characters in a regency romance novel?  What, are you going to ask your aunt’s permission?  Kid, are you out of your mind?"

“No, I just,” There’s that pause again. “I just want to do all of this right.  I want to do that for you.  Is that alright?  Can I do that?  Or is that too ridiculous?”

Tony had to hold up for a moment before answering, just to catch his breath. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first to being told something so ridiculous or so terribly perfect.  Sure, he’d known Peter was interested in the physical sense, it was perfectly obvious.  But this wasn’t that.

“No,” he answered quietly, letting Peter catch his eyes and holding his steady gaze. “No, it’s not ridiculous at all.  It’s perfectly you, actually.” Quirking an eyebrow, he let a smile cross his face, “Give it your best shot."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So glad you've all made it this far!  
> What are your thoughts? Tell me what you liked or didn't like, or any grammar mistakes I missed - it's all appreciated!  
> Thanks for reading!


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